He's No Prince Charming
by DeathlyMarshmallows
Summary: AU - The Enchantress took pity on the Prince that fateful night. Years later, he is surrounded by loyal servants, engaged to be married, and just as spoiled, selfish, and unkind as ever. His comfortable life is radically overhauled when he meets a beautiful peasant girl living in a poor little village, and a horrific tragedy forces the Prince to reassess himself and his lifestyle.
1. Chapter 1

_Cover image by TaijaVigilia whose artwork is amazing. You can find her on DeviantArt and Tumblr._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Beauty and the Beast, obviously. _

**Chapter One**

In storybooks, princes are dashing, romantic, thoughtful creatures who slay dragons and sweep beautiful princesses off their feet. Handsome, charming, heroic, and selfless to a fault, they represent the perfect romantic partner for idealistic young girls everywhere. It is important to note that the fairy tale prince rarely transcends the royal shackles to become a king. The storybook king is a stuffy old man who forces his poor daughters to wed evil foreign lords, and enslaves their peasant lovers into a life of servitude. Hardly an appropriate hero for a romantic fable.

This is, of course, a complete falsification. In real life, princes suffer the same shortcomings and failures as the rest of society. They can be as rude and as obnoxious as even the lowliest peasant. That is not to say that all princes are completely distasteful. Of course not! To propose such a thing would be preposterous. There are princes, rare though they may be, who are just as charming and romantic as the fables make them out to be. Unfortunately, none of them have slayed any dragons. One of them had a rather fierce encounter with an exceptionally large lizard though.

No. On the whole, princes tend to be rather unpleasant. Due to a childhood of constant attention and meaningless gifts, they grow up to be selfish, callous, insufferable, and power-hungry.

Case in point, Prince Adam of France. In fact, there had never been a prince more selfish and unpleasant than Prince Adam.

Prince Adam had never known his parents. They had both died when he was a baby. His mother had passed away just moments after his birth, and his grieving father followed her several months later. This had left the little prince in the care of a group of frivolous young servants, many of whom were not ideal for childrearing. They spoiled him rotten and gave in to his every desire. With no one around to discipline or chastise him, he grew cruel and conceited. By the time he was eleven years old, he was positively unbearable.

Our story begins one cold December night in the secluded castle where Prince Adam lived. As a snowstorm raged unrepentantly outside, the Prince sat down to the evening meal. He gazed greedily at the table laden with food. Roast lamb, pumpkin soup, chocolate pudding! A meal fit for a prince!

Licking his lips, the Prince lifted his spoon. He allowed the delightful scents to fill his nostrils. He looked around at all the dishes. He could not wait to get all this delicious food into his stomach. His eyes widened suddenly. Wait a minute! Something was missing.

"Lumiere!" barked the Prince. "Lumiere, get in here!"

Lumiere, the castle's maître d'hôtel, strolled into the dining room. At thirty-four years old he had two great loves in his life: women and food. With his long nose and unusual lack of chin, he was not the epitome of masculine beauty. Nevertheless, he made up for his less favourable physical attributes with his great charm, wit, and enthusiasm. With just a wink of an eye, a humorous observation, and a well-crafted compliment or two, he could effortlessly charm beautiful women into his bedchambers. He had begun working as a chef's assistant for a wealthy family in Paris when he was fifteen. He had jumped at the chance to work for the royal family of a poor little province just south of Paris, and had left immediately, leaving dozens of broken-hearted women behind him. His new master and mistress had died soon after he arrived, leaving him and the rest of the servants as the guardians of the orphaned little prince.

"Yes, Master Adam?" Lumiere bowed and flashed the Prince his most dashing smile. Unlike most women(not to mention several men) the Prince was immune to Lumiere's charms, and thus the boyish grin that had caused women to tear off their dresses and hurl themselves at him in the middle of a room full of nobles and important dignitaries had no effect.

"Where's my cheese souffle?" demanded the Prince.

"I apologise, Master, but-"

"I asked for cheese souffle!" shouted the Prince. "Why is there no souffle on my table right now?"

"I'm sorry. We ran out of eggs before we could ma-"

"When I ask for cheese souffle, I expect cheese souffle! I don't want any more of your excuses, Lumiere."

"But, Master-"

"Enough! Where's Cogsworth?"

At the mention of his name, Cogsworth, the majordomo of the castle, walked sheepishly into the room and bowed to the prince. He was in his mid-thirties. That's what he claimed, at least. Lumiere hadn't helped noticing that Cogsworth had been in his mid-thirties for the past decade. He was short, fat, and more than made up for Lumiere's lack of chin. Unlike Lumiere, he was not at all popular with the opposite sex. He was unbothered by this, however, as he was too busy with his job to devote any time to wooing any "silly young girls".

"Ah, Cogsworth," said the Prince uncharacteristically calmly.

Cogsworth gulped. That didn't sound good!

"Cogsworth, Lumiere tells me that we have run out of eggs. Why is this?"

"W-well, Master," he stammered. "It has been awfully stormy as of late. As such, we have not been able to go to the village to buy more food. The roads are muddy and wet, and it would be dangerous for us to travel. We could be killed."

Adam fumed quietly. Cogsworth and Lumiere closed their eyes and flinched. They knew what was coming. Finally the Prince exploded.

"Do you think I care if you die, you blundering fools?" screamed the Prince, picking up his plate from the table and hurling it at the pair. "You have one job. One! And you failed miserably. You make sick! Honestly, you deserve to die."

Those who encountered the Prince and witnessed his poor treatment of those who served him often wondered what compelled his servants to stay working for their cruel master. It was, admittedly, rather puzzling, but the servants all had their reasons. Many had nowhere else to go. Some of them had been born in the castle and could not fathom living and working in some other place, and thus stayed out of fear. Others, like Lumiere and Cogsworth, enjoyed their jobs immensely, constant abuse aside, and stayed due to the sheer joy they got out of working. Besides, they optimistically thought that the Prince would surely become more agreeable as he grew up.

"Adam dear. I do think you are being too harsh on poor Lumiere and Cogsworth," said Mrs Potts, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines.

The widowed Mrs Potts was Adam's favourite member of the staff, though he would never admit it. The housekeeper had migrated with her late husband from England to France twenty years previously. After the Prince's parents had died, she had become the boy's adoptive mother, providing all of the cuddles and comfort that she thought was necessary. She had mothered seven children herself and had grown to see the young orphan as one of her own. It broke her heart to see him acting like this.

Adam looked at Mrs Potts sharply. For a few brief seconds, the woman could have sworn she saw a smile beginning to creep onto the Prince's face. He looked down at Cogsworth and Lumiere, who were cowering together on the floor. He pointed to the smashed plate on the floor.

"Clean it up, Cogsworth. And Lumiere, bring me another plate." Adam sat back down. Mrs Potts smiled at him.

"Now dear, that wasn't so hard was it?"

Adam only grunted in response. He took the plate that Lumiere gave to him, and allowed the servant to pile food onto it. He sighed.

A sudden loud ominous knock on the door front door caused Adam to jump out his seat in fear.

"I wonder who that could be at this hour," wondered Mrs Potts,

"I don't know and I don't care," said the Prince. "I want to enjoy my dinner alone. Cogsworth, answer the door and get rid of this person."

"I am rather busy at the moment, Master," said Cogsworth from the floor where he was still cleaning up the broken plate.

Prince Adam stood up and glared at the older man.

"I told you to answer the door, Cogsworth," he said curtly.

"Master, he's busy. Why don't you ask one of the other servants to do it?" pleaded Lumiere hopelessly. The Prince ignored him.

"Useless!" he screamed. "You're all useless! I don't even know why I have servants. I will have to get rid of this person myself. It seems the both of you are too incompetent to do so."

He glared at them, and strode into the entrance hall. Chip, Mrs Potts' five year old son, was playing near the stairs. The Prince intentionally stepped on the small boy's fingers as he walked past. Chip cried out in intense pain and rushed into the arms of his mother who began to comfort him.

"Little runt. Children should be kept inside their cages," muttered the Prince, conveniently forgetting that he himself was only eleven years old.

The visitor banged on the door again.

"Peasants are so entitled and impatient," the Prince said to himself. "They ought to be happy that they have such a kind and generous prince."

He threw open the door. A huge gust of wind burst into the castle, almost knocking the Prince off his feet. A repulsive old crone stood on the doorstep, clutching an emerald green cloak around herself for warmth. The Prince had to resist the urge to vomit when he saw her.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

The old woman smiled weakly and held up a red rose.

"Prince Adam, I have travelled for many miles today, but I am afraid that I cannot go on for much longer. Please allow me to seek shelter in your castle for just one night. I am very poor, so I am afraid that I do not have much to offer you except for this rose."

Adam stared from the woman's decrepit face to the rose, and then back to the woman. Was this old lady being serious? He resisted the urge to laugh.

"What?" he asked curtly.

"I have travelled for many miles-"

"I heard what you said, old hag," said the Prince, scowling. "And no, you may not spend the night in my castle. People like you make me sick. All you do is mooch. Get out of my sight."

"Are you sure?" asked the old woman, her mouth twisting into a disturbing smile. "Do not be fooled by my appearance. True beauty is found within. I am very old and tired. Just one night?"

"No. Get out!"

The Prince began to close the door, when he was suddenly blinded by a flash of green light. When he looked again, the old hag had been replaced with a tall, beautiful, glowing blonde woman who was staring down at him.

"You are a very selfish, shallow, and cruel boy, Prince Adam," said the Enchantress calmly. "You have no love in your heart. You are a danger to yourself and to your people. You deserve to be punished."

The Prince fell to his knees.

"P-please don't hurt me," he whimpered. "I-I'm just a little boy."

"If I allow you to grow up while you remain exactly as you are there is no telling what kind of damage you could do."

"I-I can change, really. I promise. Please let me go!"

The Enchantress stared at the boy for a few moments, before her expression softened. She smiled slightly.

"You really are just a pathetic little child aren't you? Alright, Prince Adam, I'll make you a deal. I will leave you alone as long as you promise to change your ways."

Prince Adam grinned. That was easier than he thought it would be. He should have known. He had always been good at manipulating people.

"Deal."

"Good," said the Enchantress. "Just remember, if you fail to change your ways in the near future, something awful will happen. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Of course not."

"I thought so. Farewell, Prince Adam. I will be watching you."

She was gone in another flash of green. Adam closed the door. A crowd of servants had gathered in the entrance hall to watch the exchange. Adam glared at them.

"What are you looking at? Get back to work, all of you! I'm not paying you to stand around."

And with that, he stalked off back to the dining room, clearing his mind completely of the conversation he had with the Enchantress.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was a dark and stormy night. The phrase is clichéd and overused, but, alas, it is the only way to describe the night that our young heroine and her lone parent, an ageing inventor, first arrived in the village.

The residents of Villemont were gathered in the tavern, preparing to celebrate the dawning of a new year. Everyone in town had been anxiously awaiting the New Years celebrations. All year, Sebastien and Richard Bouvier, the village's resident alcohol purveyors, had been working on a special brew for the occasion. For weeks, lovesick girls had been day dreaming about the possibility of kissing the object of their affection on the stroke of midnight. Many young boys were excited about the prospect of tasting beer for the first time in their lives. The working men and women of the town were just looking forward to a chance to unwind and forget about the problems that had plagued them that year.

A forlorn-looking carthorse pulling a rickety old wagon passed by the noisy tavern. Maurice Desrosiers held his reins in one hand as he wiped some of the rain from his face. His sixteen year old daughter, Belle, shivered and pulled her cloak closer around herself. The wagon made its way through the village streets, eventually pulling up to a small cottage just outside the town limits.

"Here it is, Belle!" Maurice announced cheerfully.

Belle picked up a small bag that was lying at her feet and, without uttering a single word to her father, climbed down from the wagon. Maurice followed his daughter into the house.

"What do you think of our new home, Belle?"

Belle ignored him, and quickly discarded her soaking wet cloak on the floor. She lit a small candle she found near the fireplace. She pulled a book from her bag and sat down on the stairs to read it.

"You're still not talking to me?"

Belle shot her father a look that answered his question far better than words ever could. Maurice sighed in defeat. At least she had acknowledged him.

"It's dark now. Maybe you'll like it better in the morning," he suggested hopefully.

Belle pushed a stray hair that had made its way lose from her ponytail away from her forehead. She pursed her lips and turned a page.

"We've been on the road since Christmas," said Maurice. "You're probably very tired. You should go to bed early tonight. You can have the larger bedroom at the top of the stairs, if you like. I'll take the smaller one. Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow?"

Belle continued to ignore him.

"Belle, this is ridiculous. You're acting like a child. Do you want me to tuck you in and read you a bedtime story?" Maurice joked.

"I still don't understand why we had to leave," Belle said finally, glaring at her father.

"It wasn't safe for us to stay in Paris," Maurice sighed. "I only want what's best for you, darling."

"But we left everything behind. Our house, my friends, Jean."

When Maurice had first told her that they would be leaving Paris, he was expecting Belle to overjoyed at the thought of getting away from that dirty, crime-ridden city. He was stunned when Belle burst into tears and ran to her room. It had taken three days to coax her out. When she finally emerged, she informed her father that she was "in love" with a boy named Jean, and that she could never, ever leave her beloved. Maurice was expecting a handsome young man of eighteen or nineteen, and was stunned when he answered the door to find an obese, balding man, who looked to be nearly as old as Maurice himself, grinning back at him. The man then stepped aside so that Belle could greet his son with a kiss.

"Are you hungry?" Maurice asked. "I'm afraid we don't have much in the way of food right now. I bought bread and some eggs at the last town. We can have them for breakfast tomorrow. I think we passed by a tavern on the way here. Maybe we could eat there tonight? What do you think?"

"I think that I want to go home."

"This is your home now."

"It doesn't feel like home," said Belle. "It is not my home and it never will be."

"Please give it chance, Belle. Please?" Maurice pleaded.

"No," Belle said curtly. "I'll never be happy again,"

"You're sixteen, Belle. You knew this boy for two weeks."

"But he was so handsome, and he read Fontenelle! Do you know how hard it is to find a boy who reads Fontenelle?"

"I can't say that I do. You're usually such a sweet girl. Why have you been so difficult lately, Evelina?" Maurice groaned.

He hadn't meant to call her that. It just slipped out. When he saw Belle's face flush red with anger, Maurice realized his mistake and instantly began to regret it. Nothing upset his daughter more than being referred to by her birth name.

"I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you! I told you to never call me that again! I hate this stupid town, I hate this house, and I hate you! I hope you die!"

Belle threw the candle at him. It narrowly missed Maurice's head, and extinguished as soon as it hit the ground. She slung her small bag over her shoulder and stomped loudly up the stairs to her new bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Maurice buried his face in his hands. He knew that Belle hated leaving the home she had grown up in, but the way she was behaving was so unlike her. She had always been such a pleasant child. Even as a baby she rarely cried. Come to think of it, she had been acting strangely since her sixteenth birthday. Did all sixteen year old girls act like this? Maurice didn't know. He'd never been a sixteen year old girl, and he'd never had any sisters. Without her mother around, Belle's teenaged years had been a trying time.

* * *

The next morning, Belle came meekly down the stairs, a sheepish expression plastered on her pretty face. Maurice placed a plate of food on the table and smiled at her.

"Good morning, Belle! I scrambled the eggs the way you like them."

Belle just stared at her father. Her lips began to tremble. She burst into tears and hugged Maurice furiously.

"I couldn't sleep last night. I kept thinking about what I said to you. I am so sorry, Papa. I don't hate you at all," Belle cried, burying her face into his shoulder. "I love you so much. I know that it wasn't easy for you to raise me alone, especially after what that awful woman did to you."

"Belle, your mother is not awful. She left us because-" Maurice paused. He had never told Belle the real reason her mother had abandoned them. Alana had specifically asked him to never tell their daughter the truth about her, and, up until now, he had respected her wishes.

"She wasn't ready to be a mother," Belle finished for him. "She didn't want me. I know."

"No, Belle. She did want you. She loved you more than anything in the world. It's just-" Maurice trailed off, deciding that it was best to leave the subject alone.

He wasn't comfortable with Belle's blind hatred of her mother, to the point that she even refused to go by the name that Alana had given her at birth. Part of him still held onto a tiny glimmer of hope that his wife would return to them, and that he, Belle, and Alana could live together as a family once again. It was the main reason he and Belle had stayed in Paris for so long, even though it was hardly an ideal place for a young girl to grow up. However, after fifteen years, he had begun to accept that Alana was not coming back. On the way back from an invention competition in Nevers, he passed through Villemont, and discovered a beautiful little furnished cottage being sold for practically nothing. Eager to get Belle away from the city, he bought it immediately, expecting that his daughter would be thrilled at the prospect of moving out to the country.

"I'm sorry that I called you that name," Maurice said soothingly, stroking her hair. "I know how much it upsets you."

"And I'm sorry that I said that I hoped that you would die. I wish I could take back everything that I said. I couldn't cope if you died. You're the only family I've ever had. You raised me, and loved me, and cared for me, even when my mother wouldn't."

"It's okay, sweetheart. I just took you away from everything you have ever known. It's right for you to be angry. I just want what's best for you. You know that right? And I'm sorry I took you away from little boyfriend. What was his name? John?"

"I was a fool to think that I ever loved Jean," Belle laughed. "I knew him for two weeks. He was beautiful, but there was nothing more to him than good looks and a love of Fontenelle. Boys are a lot like books, really. A story can have the most beautiful prose, but if the characters are vapid and shallow, and the plot is dull, then what is the point? I'm sorry for acting the way I have been, Papa. And I am sure I will get used to living here. It may take a while, but I have been through worse. I'm sorry for everything that I said, Papa. I love you. I'm thankful for everything that you've done. I will never yell at you again."

"Oh, Belle. That's alright," Maurice said, patting her hand. "You can yell at me a little, if you want. Come on, eat your breakfast."

"No thank you, Papa. You can have mine. I don't feel like eating now."

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Maurice asked with concern.

"Nothing's wrong, Papa," she smiled. "I'm just not hungry this morning. I'm going out to explore the town."

"I'm afraid your cloak is still wet from last night. Will you be alright without it?"

"I'll be fine. Good bye, Papa," she called, flinging the door open and bounded outside.

"Have fun!" Maurice called after her.

Her new surroundings were beautiful, Belle had to admit it. The cottage was on top of a hill that was covered in a thick layer of grass, clover, and dandelions. From the top of the hill she could look down upon a crystal blue river that shone in the dull January sunlight. Great wordsmiths like Cervantes and Defoe must have lived in places like this, Belle thought. If she only had someone to correspond with, she could become a great letter-writer like Madame de Sevigne.

The town was lovely too. Picturesque, in fact. The snow that covered the roofs of the beautiful stone buildings, that Belle supposed must be at least one or two hundred years old, made it seem almost like a scenic painting. The entire village seemed to be deserted, however, which struck Belle as being rather peculiar. She knew that plenty of other people lived here. The tavern they had passed the previous night had been full of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that at least one shop was open. As she walked closer, her heart leapt when she the word "bookseller" emblazoned on a sign hanging above the doorway. What luck! The only shop open was also the only shop she was interested in going into. Belle pushed the door open. A bell sounded to signal her arrival. An elderly man with grey hair and thin spectacles looked up as she walked in.

"Bonjour," she greeted the old man cheerfully, supposing that he must be the bookseller.

"Hello," he said, peering at her curiously. "I've never seen you around before. Are you new here?"

"Yes, sir," Belle confirmed. "My father and I just arrived in town yesterday. My name is Belle."

"A very pretty name, Belle. It has a nice ring to it," he laughed. Belle chuckled awkwardly. She'd heard that joke so many times before that it had lost any humour that it may have had to begin with. "I am Gustave Gaubert. I hope you are happy here. Do you enjoy reading, Belle?"

"Oh, yes," Belle gushed. "Yes, I do. Stories about great adventures and grand romances, mostly, but I do enjoy most kinds of books."

"I have all sorts of books in here. You may come and browse anytime that you like."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much. It's just-" Belle's smile faded. "My father and I are very poor. He spent all of our money on our new house. I'm afraid I will not be able to buy anything."

"That is fine, my dear," said Monsieur Gaubert. "I do not need the money. I own this shop merely to keep busy in my old age. I'll tell you what. You may borrow one book at a time without charge. It is such a pleasure to see someone so young enjoy reading so much."

Belle was thrilled. She could have kissed Monsieur Gaubert!

"Oh, thank you, sir," Belle said, her eyes filling with tears of happiness. "Thank you so much. I am dreadfully sorry for the mindless repetitive garbling, but I do not know if I will ever be able to thank you enough!"

"Just with your company, mademoiselle. I do not get many visitors here. There are not many avid readers in this town," Monsieur Gaubert told her with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

"Speaking of which, where is everyone? The village is deserted."

"It is January the first today, isn't it? They should all be at the Winter Festival."

"There's a festival on today? What's it for?" asked Belle eagerly.

"Most everyone in the village goes," said the bookseller. "It's held on the first day of every year. There's music, dancing, food, but most people just go for the Winter Princess contest."

"That sounds like fun!" Belle exclaimed.

"I don't care for it, personally. It is held in old Flaubert's farm just north of here if you are interested."

"Thank you," said Belle, flashing him a smile. "I promise I'll come back tomorrow."

When Belle arrived at the festival, she was surprised to find that the villagers were not dancing, drinking, or engaging in any other activity that people are wont to do at a festival. Instead they were crowded around a stage. A fat, jolly looking man was placing a wooden crown on the head of a beaming, beautiful girl with bright red hair. Several girls stood near the stage, sobbing into each other's shoulders, but most of the audience were cheering and clapping happily. The men were looking particularly eager.

There was one woman who did appear to appear to be joining in the mindless frivolity. Belle was instantly drawn to her. With her long, flowing honey blonde hair and voluptuous figure, she looked just like a woman painted by Botticelli. She held a small toddler in her arms, and was staring at the girl on the stage with a wistful expression on her face. Belle approached her meekly.

"Good morning!" Belle greeted her.

"Hello," the woman said. She seemed to be shocked that Belle was speaking to her.

"My name is Belle. My father and I just moved here from Paris. What's your name?" The woman looked hesitantly at Belle for a moment.

"Lenore. Lenore Albert."

"Lenore! What a gorgeous name! It's like a poem in two syllables, almost. Le-nore! Lyrical, lilting, lovely Lenore!"

"Thank you," said Lenore. She held up her baby. "This is my daughter, Dulcinea."

"Oh, like in _Don Quixote_?"

"Well, no," Lenore admitted. "It was after my grandmother. She was Spanish."

"How exotic!" Belle exclaimed. "I wish I had a mixed heritage. I am just boring and French."

"I think Belle is a beautiful name, even if you think it is boring and French. No pun intended, of course."

"Thank you ever so much! It was after a character in a book my father read me when I was very little," Belle explained, and then, before Lenore could ask for clarification, lent down to tickle Dulcinea's chin. "Hello, Dulcinea," she cooed. Dulcinea giggled and reached out to touch Belle's hand.

"She likes you," said Lenore, smiling slightly and brushing Dulcinea's dark hair out of her shining blue eyes, which were staring at Belle curiously.

"She is gorgeous. You are so lucky. May I hold her?"

"If you want to," Lenore said hesitantly, before handing Dulcinea to Belle. Dulcinea buried her face into Belle's chest.

"What's going on here," Belle asked, gesturing to the stage with her spare hand.

"The mayor is crowning the Winter Princess."

"The what?"

"The Winter Princess. It's a little contest they run every year," Lenore explained. "Everyone votes for whomever they believe is the most beautiful girl in town. The girl who gets the most votes is crowned the Winter Princess at the festival on New Years day. The girl they chose this year is Chloe Dujardin. She only came here two years ago. Everyone knew she would win."

"What about the men? Are they voted on?"

"No. The princess chooses her own prince," said Lenore, pointing to the stage where Chloe was embracing a tall, muscular, dark-haired man.

"So only the women are judged on their looks? Not their personalities, or their intelligence, or their skills?" asked Belle disgustedly. "That sounds repulsive. Who came up with this stupid thing?"

"I'm not sure actually," said Lenore. "It's been around for years. My great-aunt remembers being the Winter Princess when she was fifteen."

The crowd was cheering wildly as Chloe kissed her dark-haired lover passionately.

"They look like a beautiful couple," said Belle dreamily. "Do you think they'll get married?"

"Now that you're here?" Lenore asked, taking her daughter back from Belle. "I doubt it."

"What do you mean?" Belle asked curiously. Lenore looked down sadly at Dulcinea.

"I have to go home now. It's almost time for Dulcinea's nap. It was nice meeting you, Belle."

"May I come over to visit you sometime? I don't really know anyone, and I'd love to meet Dulcinea's father."

"I shouldn't think that you would want to in a few days," said Lenore. "Don't worry, though. You and Dulcinea's father will be a spending a lot of time together." She smiled at Belle, and then strode off. Dulcinea waved to Belle over Lenore's shoulder.

* * *

"I bet you're glad Chloe won the contest yesterday, Gaston."

Gaston Dubois, with his rippling muscles and superb hunting skills, was a legend in his own village. There was not a man in town who did want to be him, nor was there a woman who did not want to marry him. Gaston did not really eat five dozen eggs every morning. That would be impossible, but both Gaston and his admirers were prone to hyperbole. He had just returned to the village after a less than successful morning of hunting with Paul-Claude LeFou, one of his more ardent admirers.

"I knew she would get it," Gaston replied. "She's the most beautiful girl in town. Not quite as beautiful as me, however."

"Do ya think you and Chloe are gonna get married, Gaston?" asked LeFou.

Gaston glanced down at his diminutive companion and grinned.

"I think we will. She's the best girl around for miles. It is a shame that I will have to settle for someone less attractive than I am, though. I guess I-"

Gaston stopped dead in his tracks as something caught his. No. Someone! There, sitting by the fountain reading a book, was an angel. Beauty had taken on a human form and she was sitting right in front of him.

"Who is that beautiful creature?" he breathed. "That goddess among women! Who is she?"

"That's the new girl," said Le Fou. "The whole town's been talking about her. She's a looker isn't she? Shame she's a bit weird, though. I saw her talking to that crazy Lenore Albert yesterday. You know the one who-"

"I know who she is, LeFou," Gaston interrupted. He did not enjoy talking about Lenore Albert. "What's that girl's name?"

"I dunno. I think it starts with a b. Blanche, I think. Or it could be Beatrice. Actually no, it's Brigitte. I'm sure it's Brigitte. She'd make perfect wife if you disciplined her in the right way, I think. But that doesn't matter 'cause you're gonna marry Chloe right, Gaston?"

"Brigitte?" repeated Gaston. "Is that her name?"

"I'm sure of it," said LeFou.

"You'd better be right."

Gaston strode over to the girl. He coughed to get her attention, but she did not seem to notice him.

"Brigitte?"

The girl did not look up.

"Brigitte, I hear you're new in town."

Again, nothing.

"Brigitte, when people speak to you, it is polite to answer them." Gaston tore the book from the girl's grasp. The girl was so startled that she almost fell backwards into the fountain.

"Brigitte? My name is Belle," she said furiously, standing up to face him. "Give me my book back!"

Belle? Gaston was going to kill LeFou.

"Belle, huh?" Gaston grinned at her. "What an appropriate name for someone so beautiful."

"T-thank you." Belle blushed furiously. Maybe this man wasn't so bad after all.

"How 'bout you throw that silly old book away and come have a drink with me at the tavern."

"Aren't you courting that red-haired girl?" asked Belle. She thought she recognised him. "The snow queen?"

"Who? Chloe? Of course not!" Gaston scoffed. "Can you honestly imagine a guy like me married to a plain girl like her?"

"I thought she was beautiful," countered Belle.

"Not beautiful enough. It's a good thing you came to the village when you did. I almost married her! So, what do you do for fun?"

"I read, mostly."

"Reading?" Gaston looked disgusted and threw the book into the fountain. "What a waste of time! You should take up a real pastime. Like hunting."

"I don't really care for hunting," said Belle, fishing the destroyed book out of the fountain. "Killing an animal purely for your own pleasure seems unnecessary to me."

"It's not just for fun, Brigitte-"

"Belle."

"Right, right," muttered Gaston. "I always make the most out of my kills. I eat their meat, and I wear their skin."

"How economical of you," said Belle, rolling her eyes.

"They also make great decorations. I have about fifty deer heads on my wall at home."

"You hang their heads on the wall? That's barbaric!" Belle said in disgust, looking at Gaston with a horrified expression on her face.

"Thank you, Belle," said Gaston, grinning at her. "Why don't you come over to the tavern to see them? I think we still have some of the Bouviers' brew left over from New Years Eve."

"Maybe some other time. I have to tell Monsieur Gaubert that his book was destroyed by a savage beast."

"Monsieur Gaubert? Is he the one who has been putting all these silly ideas in your head? Crazy old man," muttered Gaston. "You should stay away from him, Belle."

Belle ignored him and walked away.

"I am going to marry her," Gaston said to himself. "She's the one. I just know it."

* * *

"Belle? What's wrong?" Monsieur Gaubert asked when he saw the distraught look on Belle's face. Belle held out the ruined book meekly.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Gaubert," Belle said, close to tears. "But I had an awful encounter with someone that I'd rather forget."

"Never mind about the book, Belle. Was it Gaston? Is he harassing you already? I'd have thought he would wait at least a week."

"I-I don't know," Belle stammered. "He didn't tell me his name. He said that reading was a waste of time, and he told me that I should take up hunting instead."

"That was Gaston alright," said the bookseller shaking his head. "He's going to try to court you, but you'd best stay away from him. What he did to poor Lenore Albert is unforgivable."

"I met Lenore yesterday," said Belle. "She was nice, but she seemed rather odd. What did he do to her?"

"He courted her for a few years. She loved him, and she thought he was in love with her. When she found out she was expecting a child she was thrilled because she thought that Gaston would finally marry her. But, by that time, Chloe Dujardin, whom Gaston considered to be far more beautiful than Lenore, had come to town."

"So Gaston is Dulcinea's father?" Belle asked.

"Yes," Monsieur Gaubert confirmed. "Gaston refuses to acknowledge that the child is his, though. He doesn't want to take on the responsibility of an illegitimate child. He turned the whole village against Lenore, proclaiming her to be a mentally unstable strumpet, and that the real father of the baby was a traveling merchant who passed through town one day. The truth is plainly obvious, though. The little girl looks exactly like him, right down to the piercing blue eyes."

"It is awful when a parent does not take responsibility for their own child," said Belle, feeling dreadfully for poor Dulcinea.

"The sad thing is, I think that, had she been a boy, Gaston would have eventually come to acknowledge his child. He has always wanted a son."

When Belle left the bookshop, she saw Lenore and Dulcinea by the fountain where she had been before. As she passed, she shot Lenore an encouraging smile. Lenore smiled back.

"I will never let myself be seduced by a man," Belle said to herself. She would allow herself to be wooed and romanced by the men in her storybooks, but Prince Charming did not exist in real life. In the fantasy world, men treated women like goddesses and showered them with romance and gifts.. In reality, women were merely playthings that were tossed aside as soon as they became old and broken. She would not end up like Lenore Albert. She would never, ever fall in love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Master Adam, I have received a letter back from the prince of Picardy. He has agreed to give you his youngest daughter's hand in marriage."

Prince Adam, now a handsome young man of almost twenty years of age, and Cogsworth, still in his mid-thirties and still as portly as ever, were in a carriage on their way to Villemont, the village closest to his castle, to hold his monthly meeting with the mayor.

"Which princess was this?" Adam asked as he stared out of the window, feeling utterly bored.

"Princess Alexis, sire," answered Cogsworth primly. "The one you danced with at Lady Archambault's ball last year, remember?"

"Ah yes, the brunette?"

"No, sir," said Cogsworth meekly. "She had blonde hair, remember?"

"Ugh! Blonde? Cogsworth, you fool! I told you I liked the brown haired girl. What am I going to do with a blonde? I hate blondes!"

"Would you like me to write back to the prince and tell him the marriage is off?"

"No, I made the mistake of entrusting you to arrange the marriage, Cogsworth," Adam replied. "I shouldn't have been so stupid, but it was my fault for thinking you could do it. I made my mistake and now I'll have to live with it. I will just have to marry this yellow haired girl."

"Are you sure, Master?"

"Yes, Cogsworth. I'm just going to have to marry her," sighed the prince. "It's not like I am going to be tied to her for my entire life. I'm a prince for goodness' sake! I can have as many brunette mistresses as I desire. I don't care what my wife looks like.

"Very well, sir. You will be traveling to Picardy in June to meet with the princess and her family and arrange the wedding."

Cogsworth, and the rest of servants, were anxiously awaiting the prince's marriage. They, perhaps naively, hoped that being married would force him to settle down, and think of someone other than himself for a change. The encounter he had with the Enchantress nine years previously had done little to change the young prince. He had not chosen to heed the Enchantress's warning, and instead had grown to be even more spoiled and selfish than he had been as a child. It didn't seem like anything less than a marriage could save him now.

* * *

"How do you like living here so far, Belle?"

Belle was in Monsieur Gaubert's shop to borrow another book, and to visit her new friend. She had been in the village for only two weeks, yet she had read through almost an entire shelf of books.

"Compared to Paris, I must admit it is not very impressive," answered Belle. "However, the village is very pretty, and the people here are very nice, if a bit boring and vapid. It is lonely here, though. I've never had many friends, but I don't know anyone here at all. I've tried to make friends, but all the girls here seem to despise me, and I don't know why. I haven't even spoken to any of them."

"What about the men?" asked Monsieur Gaubert, raising an eyebrow.

"The men are even worse! They like me too much! They stare at me wherever I go," said Belle. "Some of them even follow me back to my house. I feel so violated. You know, I've had three proposals since I first arrived! And I hadn't even spoken to any of the men before the proposal in question. I don't want to marry any man, let alone one who only likes for my looks."

"I think that might be the reason the girls seem to dislike you so much. They're jealous of the attention you're getting."

"The attention is flattering, but it makes me feel so uncomfortable. I know I am beautiful," admitted Belle. "I hate the way I sound when I say that, but I've been told this my entire life. The word has lost all of its meaning to me. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I am incredibly lucky to be considered so physically attractive, but I want people to see that I'm not just a silly, vapid, pretty girl. I want people to know that I have a brain."

"Well, Belle, the written word can be a powerful thing," said the bookseller. "Maybe you could become a writer yourself. That would show everyone that you're not just a pretty face."

"Oh, Monsieur Gaubert, I wish I could be," sighed Belle. "But I am just not talented enough to be a writer."

"You never know until you try, Belle. I think you could be an amazing writer if you just put your mind to it."

"Thank you, Monsieur Gaubert," Belle said, smiling at him. "I am glad that you have faith in me. And thank you for the book, too. I can't wait to read it!"

"You are welcome, Belle!" the bookseller smiled back at her, as he walked her to the door. "Please come back soon! I always enjoy your company."

Belle waved good bye to the elderly bookshop owner, and started to head back to the little cottage she shared with her father. Unable to contain her patience any longer, she opened the book and started to devour its delicious literary contents as she walked. And what a story it was! A lonely poor girl, much like herself, who longed to set out on an epic adventure, and a charming prince in need of a bride. It was pure escapist fantasy. If only she could meet a prince who could take her away from this dull, provincial life, Belle thought to herself. One who would whisper sweet nothings into her ear, and love her until she was old and-

Belle's train of thought was harshly interrupted when she was suddenly knocked down to the ground, and the book flew out of her hands. She looked up to see a pair of incredibly piercing blue eyes glaring down at her. For a few seconds, they were all she could focus on. The owner of the eyes, an incredibly handsome young man dressed in expensive finery, sneered down at her.

"Why don't you look where you're going, peasant?" the man snarled.

"I-I'm sorry!" Belle stammered as she reached out to quickly snatch up her book.

"Sorry isn't good enough, you ugly little girl. Don't you know who I am?"

"N-no," Belle admitted as she stood up, clutching her book to her chest.

"Back off, princeykins!" boomed a deep voice from behind her. Belle whipped around to see Gaston swaggering up to them.

"Why should I, peasant?" he spat.

"P-please, Master!" stammered a meek, portly man beside him. "You have a meeting with the mayor. You don't have time to get into a fight!

The man considered this for a moment. He glared at Belle and Gaston for a few moments, then turned and strode away, the portly man quickly scuttling after him.

"Who was that?" asked Belle, watching the man stalk away.

"The prince," answered Gaston disgustedly. "Lousy good for nothing. We should have gotten rid of the royals a long time ago, if you ask me. They are nothing but a drain on society. Good thing he's the only one in his family left."

Belle buried her face in her hands and quickly hurried away. She did not even care about her book anymore. Never had she felt so humiliated. She had not even been there a month and she was already the laughing stock of the entire village. Imagine! Being yelled at by a prince!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Are you nervous, Master?" asked Cogsworth as he looked around at the Picardy royal family's extensive art collection.

"No, Cogsworth," Adam responded, rolling his eyes. "Of course not! It is just a girl."

"A girl you are going to marry, sire," Cogsworth reminded him. "And you ought to be on your best behaviour to impress her."

"I don't really care about her," said Adam, inspecting his fingernails nonchalantly. "I just want to get this over with and go home."

"Oh, but Master! You should put more effort into matters of the heart," said Lumiere, tearing himself away from a painting of a voluptuous woman with very little clothing. "Shower her with compliments! Smile for once."

"No."

"Please, Master!" pleaded Cogsworth desperately. "Please just attempt to be a gentleman!"

Adam was about to inform Cogsworth that he always attempted to be a perfect gentleman, and that the problem lay with everyone else, and that it was not his fault that others took issue with the way he behaved, when an frail, elderly servant, who looked to be in his final stretch of life, appeared in the doorway.

"The prince and his daughter will see you now," the servant wheezed, clutching at his chest. Lumiere and Cogsworth exchanged worried glances.

Adam strode down the corridor, with Lumiere and Cogsworth following close behind. The servant opened a door and led them into an expansive, exquisitely decorated room lined with even more paintings. A middle aged man was sitting on a settee, with a young blonde girl, whom Adam recognised as Princess Alexis from the ball, sitting next to him, a sour expression plastered on her face. Adam sat down opposite them, with Lumiere and Cogsworth on either side of him. The princess spent several moments sizing him up, her eyes glancing down at his feet then working their way up the rest of his body until they finally settled on his red hair.

"This is not the one I wanted, Papa!" she said finally. "It was the handsome German prince that I wanted! The one with the shiny black hair, not this red-haired fop. What am I going to do with him?"

Adam frowned. He was particularly sensitive about his red hair, considering it his only physical imperfection. Any servant who made any form of allusion to it would be fired on the spot.

"I am sorry, sugarplum," said her father, giving her an apologetic pat on the knee. "When you said you wanted to marry the prince from the ball, I just wrote to the only prince I remembered being there. Who could forget that red hair? Should we call the wedding off?"

"No, you made your mistake," sighed Princess Alexis. "He came all the way here so I may as well go through with it. Who knows, I may grow to like him."

Adam narrowed his eyes. Lumiere and Cogsworth exchanged glances.

"Do you have a castle?" the princess asked sharply.

"Of course I do," replied Adam indignantly.

"A positively beautiful one," added Cogsworth quickly. "Nice and secluded, in the middle of a forest so that we don't get any nasty little beggar children at our door."

"How big is it?" she asked.

"Enormous!" Cogsworth cut in before Adam could make a rude remark. "Hundreds, if not thousands of rooms! It takes an entire week to clean from top to bottom, and that's only if we use all of our staff."

"Is there a ballroom?"

"Why yes," cried Lumiere. "A huge one! You could fit perhaps three thousand people in there. And it is so shiny and gold that it positively sparkles in the warm crystal chandelier-lit light. Perfect for _l'amour_," he added with an eyebrow waggle.

"How big is your staff?" asked the princess's father.

"About a hundred and fifty in all I'd say, right Lumiere?" replied Cogsworth.

"Right! A hundred and sixty if we include the chimney children." agreed Lumiere.

"Well, I suppose you'll do," said Alexis after a moment of hesitation.

"Excellent, excellent!" declared Cogsworth jovially. "Let's go ahead and plan the wedding then! Shall we say March of next year? Just after the prince's birthday."

"But it's already June! That's not even a year away!" cried the prince of Picardy.

"The sooner the better, of course! You must provide an heir as soon as possible," said Lumiere, winking suggestively.

"An heir?" asked Princess Alexis in disgust.

"Why yes," answered Cogsworth. "The prince's family line is dying out. He is the only one left. It's his duty to replenish it, and it should be done quickly!"

It was true. Adam was the last of his line, and he needed to have children quickly. This was something that he was definitely not looking forward to. Babies disgusted him, and young children were even worse. The thought of having them in his castle repulsed him. He could see them now, running around making an unnecessary amount of noise, sticking their dirty little hands on his nice clean walls, destroying the furniture. Not only that, but there was just no one attractive enough for him to procreate with. No woman deserved to bear his children.

* * *

Back at the castle, the remaining servants were enjoying their freedom. Now that their tyrannical master was away they could engage in all sorts of activities that they could otherwise not involve themselves in when he was around. There were not many chores to do now that the prince was away. Afternoons were spent lazing around in the June sun. At night, they celebrated their brief freedom until the early hours of the next morning.

Christopher "Chip" Potts had changed a lot in the past nine years. He had recently turned fifteen, but, with his tall and masculine physique owing to a childhood of physical labour, could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. His mother claimed him that he was the spitting image of his late father. The other young girls of the household, particularly the silly young daughters of Monsieur Robillard, the chef, were utterly in love with him and his sandy blonde hair, not to mention his twinkling blue eyes, the one physical feature that he had received from his mother.

Chip despised the prince. He saw the way he treated his mother and the rest of the servants. Mama had told him that it was not the prince's fault that he behaved the way did. The poor thing was just a victim of tragic circumstances, she had said. Chip did not believe a word of his mother's excuse. The prince was just a nasty person. That was all there was to it.

When he stepped out that morning to visit his horse, Gabriel, in the stables he was greeted with the warm sensation of the June sun on his lightly tanned skin. It was such a beautiful day, he thought to himself. It would be foolish to waste it working inside. He decided to go for a ride instead.

Gabriel trotted leisurely along the path, as Chip took in the sights and scents of the forest. Before long, he came to a vaguely familiar-looking village. He left Gabriel to graze in a wide open field by a river, and went off to explore the town on his own. He had only visited this village once before. It had been with his mother and three of his older sisters when he was a little boy. It was a lot smaller than he remembered it being. As he navigated through the crowds, he heard his empty stomach rumble. He bought a baguette from the bakery, and devoured it as he walked through the town. Just as he swallowed his last bite, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

A bookshop! He often escaped to the castle library when he wanted to be alone. The prince had a significant distaste for literature and avoided the library at all costs. Chip knew that he would be safe there. There he left his own reality and escaped into a world of fantasy, where he was the dashing, handsome prince. He pushed open the door of the bookshop and wandered in. An elderly man was writing at a desk by the window.

"Ah. You're early today, Be-" the old man stared at Chip in surprise. He had evidently been expecting someone else.

"Hello," Chip greeted him. "I'd like to buy a book. Preferably one with an adventure, please."

The bookseller considered this request, then turned his back to Chip, and inspected his shelves for a few moments.

"Ah," he said after a while, retrieving a book from the top shelf of the case closest to him. "Here's one that you might be interested in."

Chip took the book and looked at the title. It was one that he did not recognise.

"This should be fine," he said. "Are you sure I'll like it?"

"I'm positive you will. One of my other customers loves it, and you remind me a lot of her."

Chip handed the bookseller his money and took the book gratefully. He opened the book and started to skim the first page. He looked up in surprise when he heard the door open and a bell sound.

"Monsieur Gaubert?"

Chip's jaw dropped as an angel- No! A goddess entered the bookshop. She was by far the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes upon. Her face looked as though it had been carved by Venus herself. Her eyes were like amber sap trickling from a tall oak trea, and her hair was a deep brown, like the colour of a refreshing mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter's night.

"Here's the book I borrowed, Monsieur Gaubert. Do you think I can borrow the story about the prince today? The one where he has to disguise himself and go on an adventure to save his one true love? It's my favourite!

"I'm sorry, Belle," the bookseller said apologetically, as he gestured to Chip. "But this young man here just bought it."

"Oh," she squeaked disappointedly. Her face fell.

"Y-you can have it, miss," offered Chip immediately, extending the arm that was holding the book.

"Oh, no. I couldn't," insisted Belle, though she really did want to take it.

"I don't need it, really. I have plenty of books at home."

"Well, if you insist," said Belle, taking the book gratefully. "Do you live in the village? I don't know anyone else here who reads, except for Monsieur Gaubert, of course. I haven't seen you before. Are you new?"

"No, actually. I live and work at the castle. For Prince Adam."

Belle's face darkened. Her pretty features twisted into a scowl.

"Prince Adam? Oh dear."

"You're familiar with him?" asked Chip.

"We had a rather unfortunate confrontation a few months ago. What a nasty, repulsive human being."

Chip smiled. Somehow Belle was becoming even more attractive with every word that she spoke.

"Isn't he just awful?" agreed Chip happily. "Mama says he's like that because his parents died when he was a baby, but I think that's just an excuse. I think people are born rotten, don't you?"

"Oh dear!" Belle exclaimed, noticing the clock on the mantelpiece. "Is that clock accurate, Monsieur Gaubert? I was only meant to be here a few seconds. I have to go home to help my father. Good bye, Monsieur! And it was lovely meeting you..."

"Chip."

"Chip," she repeated. "It suits you. Thank you so much for the book, by the way. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

Chip blushed furiously. Belle smiled back at him, and twisted the doorknob.

"Wait!" he yelled before he could stop himself.

"Yes?"

"C-can I walk you home?"

"I-if you want to," Belle stammered, surprised by his offer.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say to the other.

"How old are you?" Chip asked finally.

"Sixteen," replied Belle. "I'm turning seventeen at the end of October. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Chip lied. He should not have lied to her, he told himself later. They were only a year and a half apart in age. It really should not matter at all.

"So what is it like working for Prince Adam?" Belle asked.

"Dreadful!" Chip told her. "He's a complete monster. He doesn't treat anyone with respect. I wouldn't work there if I could help it. I was born in the castle. My mother is a servant, all my siblings are servants, and my father was a servant before he died. There is no way out for us, unfortunately. More than anything I would love to go out and see the world. I want to have an adventure."

"So would I," sighed Belle wistfully. "I used to live in Paris, but Papa hated it there so we had to move. Now I'm trapped in this boring little village. I would do anything to get away from here, but I can't leave Papa."

They arrived at quaint little cottage by the large open field where he had left Gabriel. Chip could see his horse drinking from the river at the bottom of the hill. Belle turned towards the cottage. Chip assumed that this was her house. The cottage was aesthetically appealing, it was true, but it seemed wrong that someone so beautiful lived in a place so utterly unimpressive.

"It was nice talking to you, Chip," Belle told him, giving him a small smile. "I have to go now unfor- A dandelion!"

Belle ran into the field, Chip followed her. Grinning eagerly, she plucked the dandelion from its grassy home, closed her eyes, raised the flower to her lips, and blew softly. The seeds flew off into the wind.

"Nice blow," complimented Chip. Belle giggled. "What did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you that!" shrieked Belle, horrified at his suggestion.

"Why not?"

"If I tell you then it won't come true! Oh! What a beautiful horse!" Belle exclaimed, looking down at the river where Gabriel was still drinking. "I just love the colour. Whiter than snow!"

"That's Gabriel," said Chip. "He's the son of Genevieve, my parents' old horse."

"He's gorgeous!" Belle gushed. "He reminds me of my Philippe. But Philippe is brown, not white."

"He's not as beautiful as you," Chip said, before he realized his mistake. He went bright red. He really had not meant to compare her to a horse. Luckily for him, Belle just laughed.

"I really had a nice time talking to you today, Chip," she said with a smile.

Belle and Chip stared at each other for a few moments.

"Belle!"

"Oh no! I forgot that I had to help Papa today," Belle shrieked. "I am so sorry about this, Chip! I have to go now. Farewell."

"When can I see you again?" asked Chip quickly.

"Anytime that you like," Belle answered. It's pretty boring around here. I don't do much except read, keep house, and help Papa. It would be nice to have someone to talk to."

"I'm in love, Mama!" Chip declared when he came back to the castle that night.

"Oh? Who is the lucky girl?" asked Mrs Potts.

"Her name is Belle, Mama," Chip gushed. "And she's the most beautiful creature to ever walk the Earth! She's a year older than me, but I don't mind. I am going to marry her one day. I just know I will!"

* * *

_I really should have worded my previous author's note differently. No, there will be absolutely NO Belle/Chip romance in this story. That is disgusting, wrong, and sick. I like crack pairings, but that is going too far. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

On the last day of June, Belle awoke as the dull dawn sunlight drifted in through the curtainless windows of her bedroom. She sat up, and the book she had fallen asleep reading fell to the floor with a thud. Yawning, she picked up her crumpled blue dress from the floor and slid it over her white cotton chemise. She chose a blue ribbon from her drawer, tied her hair into a messy pony-tail, grabbed the book from the ground, forced her feet into the red shoes she had owned since she was thirteen, glanced quickly at the cracked mirror next to her bed, and left the room.

As she made her way down the stairs she heard a faint explosion coming from below. Papa's up already, she thought to herself. Maurice often woke before dawn to work on his inventions. There was a big inventor's fair coming up in Moulins, and Maurice was positive that he would win. He had been talking about his brilliant idea for weeks, though Belle was still not entirely sure what exactly it was.

There was a cold bowl of porridge and a glass of milk waiting for her on the table. Belle took three spoonfuls of porridge and quickly gulped down her milk, before throwing her book into a basket and heading out the front door. Swinging the basket in her hand, she walked down the short path from her house to the village. As soon as she stepped through the town borders, the village appeared to spring to life.

"Bonjour!" called Monsieur Granger who had spent the previous night with a woman who was not his wife.

"Bonjour!" cried the jovial vegetarian butcher who had been pushed into his career by his father.

"Bonjour!" greeted the cheerfully plump Madame Duval who kept a dark secret hidden behind her pantry doors.

"Bonjour!" exclaimed poor Pierrot, the chimney sweep who had studied literature at the University of Paris.

"Bonjour!" called Laurent who, after the sudden death of his wife, had developed a taste for the Bouvier brothers' beer. He spent most of his nights in the stocks now.

In the distance she saw Henri Hardy, the baker, selling a loaf of bread to Lucie Roux. Clair Fontaine, a local farmer, rounded the corner wheeling a load of tomatoes down the street. Clair had proposed to Belle at the beginning of the year. She had turned him down quite politely, telling him that she did not believe that she would ever get married, yet he still seemed to be quite fond of her. He lifted his hat to her as he passed, and she curtsied politely back, an awkward smile etched on her face.

"Good morning, Belle!"

Belle whipped around just as the baker placed his tray on the counter of his shop.

"Morning, monsieur."

"Where are you off to?"

Belle eagerly began to tell him about the latest book she had read, only to have him dismiss her with an unbothered "that's nice". She shrugged and turned away. His loss, she thought to herself. As she turned another corner, her stomach dropped as she heard her name being whispered in a gossipy tone. Ignore them, she told herself as she jumped onto a wagon being driven by Andre Monet, another farmer who had proposed to and been rejected by Belle. She passed by Emma Rey, owner of an enormous bosom that drove men and their wives wild. She glanced at Madame Simon, who had five children and a philandering husband, and who made Belle even more determined never, ever to get married and have children of her own.

Belle leapt gracefully from the wagon as it passed by the bookshop. She pushed open the door and heard the familiar bell sound signal her arrival. Monsieur Gaubert looked up from the book he was reading.

"Good morning, I've come to return the book I borrowed," she said, handing the book to the bookseller, beaming at him. "Have you got anything new?"

"Not since yesterday," Monsieur Gaubert laughed.

"Never mind then, I'll just look around."

By chance her eyes landed on a dusty old book sitting on the middle shelf of the bookcase on the left hand side of the shop. The familiar gold lettering on the spine sparkled in the sunlight that was flowing in through the window.

"Beauty and the Beast," she whispered, taking the book in her hands. "Papa used to read it to me when I was little. I loved it so much that I- Never mind." A small blush appeared on her already rosy cheeks. "I think I'd like to borrow it today, Monsieur. I don't know what happened to our old copy."

She glanced over at the window. They were here again. Every day they came, three young men gawking at her through the bookshop window as though she were a painting on display. She had no idea who they were or what their names were, but their grinning faces haunted her every time she closed her eyes to go to sleep.

"Is there something wrong, Belle?"

"Nothing, Monsieur," she muttered. "I think I should go home now."

The bookseller walked her to the door. The gawkers quickly turned around and began to act as though they had never been staring at her through the window. Belle eyed them, before deciding to put them out of her mind completely. She opened her book and allowed herself to be entranced by its contents. Hours, days, months could pass, but Belle would never notice when she was reading. When she was engrossed in a book, everything else became utterly insignificant. To be honest, she loved books more than she loved people, except for Papa of course. The characters in her books did not judge her, or force their expectations upon her. They invited her into their worlds and played with her for as long as she wanted.

The overpowering stench of animal blood, human perspiration, and cheap alcohol hit her nostrils. Ugh! He was around. The scent of old milk and vegetable mould that usually accompanied it was missing, so at least his troll-like little companion LeFou was not around.

"Hello, Belle."

"Bonjour, Gaston."

"What are you reading?" he asked, snatching the book from Belle's grasp. "L-la Belle et- Hey, that's your name!"

"Beauty and the Beast," she said, quickly taking the book back, trying to hide her reddening cheeks. "It's about a prince who gets turned into a beast by a wicked fairy."

"A beast?" he asked eagerly, suddenly perking up. "Does a noble hunter come along and kill him out of pity? Of course! Belle, all your books are so predictable."

"No," replied Belle haughtily. "He finds love with a beautiful girl and gets turned back into a human. When I was younger I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world. Now I know that it's foolish to try to change a man, no matter how ugly he is on the outside. Or inside," she added quietly to herself.

"Belle," he boomed, puffing his chest out like a bullfrog. "It's time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things - Like me!"

Belle heard the Baudelaire triplets sigh behind her. Those girls seemed to think Gaston was the most attractive man on the planet. She did not see it, to be honest. Even discounting his awful personality and revolting views on women and literature, he was far too muscular. There was nothing attractive about a man who could pull you apart with his bare hands. And his jaw protruded more than Belle could ever have thought humanly possible. How could anyone find that attractive?

"Gaston, please. I have to go home to help my father. Go bother one of the triplets."

"Your father?" asked Gaston incredulously. "Crazy old Maurice is still alive?"

"My father is not crazy! He is a genius!" defended Belle, growing red in the face with anger.

"Just as crazy as her father," Gaston muttered to himself. "Anyway, Belle, I'm preparing a special surprise for you tomorrow."

"A surprise?" Belle did not want to know what Gaston's idea of a surprise was. Probably a severed deer head.

"Just you wait and see, Belle. Just you wait and see." He flashed Belle his most charming grin.

"Uh. Thank you, Gaston, but I don't reall-"

Belle was interrupted by a sudden explosion erupting from her cottage.

"Papa! No!"

Belle quickly turned and ran back to her house. She flung open the cellar doors, and was immediately confronted by a cloud of smoke. She took a deep breath and climbed inside.

"Papa!" she called, clearing the smoke with her hands. "Papa, where are you?"

A series of incomprehensible grunts and ramblings answered her question. Maurice was on fire! Belle quickly grabbed a bucket, ran up to the well and filled it, and brought it back down to douse her father.

"Papa, are you alright?" she asked when it was all over.

"Never better, my dear!" said Maurice with a grin on his face. "Finally I have created an invention that works!"

"But it just exploded! And you were on fire!"

"It's supposed to do that, Belle. It's an automatic fire maker! Come on, I'll show you how it works."

"No, but thank you for offering, Papa," she said quickly. She did not particularly want to be set on fire today. "Do you think the judges will like it?"

"Of course! Tomorrow morning, I'm off to the fair!"

He was leaving tomorrow? That would mean she would be alone when Gaston brought over his "surprise".

"Papa, can I come with you?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Belle, you used to hate going to fairs, remember? You used to beg to be left at home!"

"I'll miss you, and I do not really want to be left alone here," Belle explained hastily.

Maurice laughed.

"Fine, Belle. You can come. Now did you have a good time in town today?"

* * *

_The Beauty and the Beast thing is SOOOO cliche, but it'll make sense at the end, I promise!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

That night, after a meagre dinner of stale bread and old cheese, Belle and Maurice went to bed early. The next morning, before dawn had risen, Belle woke and, in the moonlit darkness, hitched up her and Maurice's old cart to Philippe and carefully helped her father load his invention onto it. Sitting herself beside him, they set off down the long dirt roads, past the brilliant green fields and imposing mountains and, just as the sun began to rise, journeyed into the deep, dark forest.

Meanwhile, Gaston strode through the village in his usual cocky manner, thinking about "surprise" he had for Belle. He was dressed in his finest clothing in preparation for the day's events. The suit was red, of course, like blood. Gaston would never wear another colour. He passed by Henri the baker who was carrying his usual tray of bread to his bakery. Gaston swaggered up to him.

"Good morning, Gaston."

"Wedding cake ready?" he asked smugly.

"Almost," replied Henri. "Marie has been up all night decorating it. I can't believe Belle didn't tell me about this wedding before, Gaston. I see her every morning. I'd have thought she would have at least mentioned it to me before. "

"Well, naturally. I haven't asked her yet. I'm going to ask her today."

"But the wedding is in a few hours!"

"Brilliant surprise, don't you think?"

"Are you sure she is going to agree to this?" asked Henri. "Belle seems like a girl who would prefer a long engagement."

"Of course she will!" Gaston boomed. "I'm the one asking her. Why would she say no?"

"I am not saying that she would not love to marry you," said Henri, choosing his words carefully. "I just think that Belle would probably prefer to wait a while before she becomes a wife. That's the impression I get from her."

"Prepare to be proven wrong," Gaston told him, a huge smirk spreading across his face.

Gaston sauntered off. By the fountain, he saw LeFou and Berenice, another girl who lived in the village, talking to each other. Gaston strode over to them.

"LeFou!" he barked, interrupting their conversation. "Is the band ready?"

"Yes, Gaston."

"And you have all the beer and wine that we need?"

"Yes sir. The Bouviers have been working all night."

"The priest has been notified?"

"Just went to see him now," said LeFou, who was feeling quite proud of himself.

"Good," declared Gaston. "Everything is falling into place nicely."

"One question, Gaston," said LeFou quickly.

"What?" Gaston asked, annoyed.

"Who are you marrying?"

"Belle, of course! Who else would I be getting married to?"

"The inventor's daughter?" asked Berenice, who had short curly red hair and was quite attractive, though not nearly as attractive as Belle. "She is very pretty, but rather odd. Why do you want to marry her?"

"Oh, I'm sure she will be difficult to tame at first," Gaston told her. "But she'll settle down after a while. Within the first year I'd say. Once the first baby comes along, she'll fit in with the rest of us just fine."

The three of them were startled by a bevy of sudden high-pitched screams. The Baudelaire triplets came running up to them moments later.

"Gaston, you look so handsome in your suit!" squealed Rosalie.

"Gorgeous!" agreed Emilie.

"What's the special occasion?" asked Coralie.

"Gaston's getting married," piped up LeFou.

All three of the girls' faces fell.

"W-we didn't know that you were getting married," stammered Coralie.

"I haven't asked her yet," replied Gaston, admiring his own biceps as he spoke.

Emilie, Rosalie, and Coralie looked up hopefully.

"Who is it? Who are you marrying?" asked Emilie, glaring at Berenice with an air of malevolence.

"Only the most beautiful girl in the village, of course," said Gaston, puffing out his chest proudly.

The triplets' smiles grew even bigger. They just knew he was talking about one of them!

"Belle will be my most impressive trophy yet."

"Belle!" cried Emilie in disgust.

"Yuck! She's so strange!" said Coralie, trying to hide her disappointment.

"All that reading can't be good for her eyes," said Rosalie snidely. "She'll probably need glasses soon. Do you really want to marry a girl who wears glasses?"

"She certainly won't be reading after we get married," said Gaston. "Not with all the cooking and cleaning and sewing and other womanly things she'll be doing."

The guests began arriving just before lunchtime. Henri and Marie brought the cake. Sebastien and Richard Bouvier brought the wine. Rosalie, Emilie, and Coralie Baudelaire brought the tears.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to my wedding," Gaston boomed, looking around at the guests proudly. "But first I better go in there and propose to the girl."

The guests laughed uproariously. The triplets cried.

Gaston strode over and knocked on the door of Belle and Maurice's cottage. Without waiting for an answer, he burst into the house, too eager to wait.

Lenore, who had been out on a leisurely walk with her young daughter, saw the crowd gathered on Belle and Maurice's lawn. Overcome with curiosity, she walked over to Berenice, her toddler daughter's hand encased in her own.

"What's going on?" asked Lenore.

"Gaston and Belle are getting married," replied Berenice snidely. She, like most others in the village, had a less than favourable opinion of Lenore.

"She's not there!" roared Gaston slamming the door shut behind him.

"What do ya mean?" asked LeFou, bracing himself for a beating.

"Belle's not in there. I looked everywhere. She's not here!"

"Oh well," said LeFou cheerfully. "I guess the wedding's off."

"Nothing is off! I told her I had a surprise for her. She probably forgot about it. We'll wait here until she comes back. I am getting married today no matter what."

* * *

It would not be a total waste to be married to Alexis, Adam thought to himself as he watched the trees whizz past the carriage windows. She was not bad looking, for a blonde, and she did know how handle an insolent servant. Perhaps he would grow to like her in time. It would not be all bad. He would pick out a mistress or four. Daughters of minor nobility for the most part. If he got desperate he could have a quick fling with one of the more comely servant girls, though he would have to take a very long bath afterwards. They would have to have children, Adam had come to accept that, but there was no reason that they had to stay around the castle. Once they were born he could send them off to a distant relative and have them return once they were of marriageable age.

His thoughts were interrupted when the carriage came to a sudden and unexpected stop. Cogsworth and Lumiere, who had been discussing the latter's most recent romantic conquest: a chamber maid back at the Picardy castle, fell to the floor in a heap.

"What was that?" Adam demanded.

"It appears that we've come to a halt, Master," replied Cogsworth.

"I know that!" groaned Adam in frustration. "Go out and see what happened."

"Yes, Lumiere. Go out and see what happened."

Lumiere shot Cogsworth a glare and reluctantly climbed out of the carriage. Cogsworth got up from the floor and sat back down opposite the prince. For a few moments they sat awkwardly.

"So, Master. What do you think of your future wife?"

"She is acceptable, I suppose."

"I bet you cannot wait to get started on replenishing your family line."

Adam only grunted in response.

"Master?"

Lumiere was back. Cogsworth breathed a sigh of relief.

"What?"

"There's an old man and an attractive young lady outside."

"And?"

"We trampled their cart and their horse ran off."

"How unfortunate," he said, inspecting his fingernails. "Let's go, Lumiere."

"I think that we should take them back to their village," said Lumiere. "It is not far, and we did destroy their transportation after all."

"No!"

"But Master-"

"I am not having those nasty peasants in my clean carriage!" said Adam in disgust I can smell them from here. It's bad enough having to go that village every month, but to have them riding in my own property? It is positively unthinkable. Completely out of the question, Lumiere. Tell them to get out of the way."

"B-but, Master!" Lumiere stammered.

"I said no! Get in, Lumiere!"

"But it could take them hours to get home," Lumiere pleaded. "Days even. It's on the way. It would only take us five minutes out of our way."

Adam was getting tired of arguing. He did not have time for such nonsense!

"Ugh!" he groaned. "Fine, just make sure they don't touch anything!"

Lumiere disappeared. Moments later, a squat little old man clambered into the carriage.

"Good afternoon," the old man greeted him jovially. "Nice carriage you have."

Lumiere carefully helped the girl in. Adam's eye widened when he saw her. He had to admit it to himself: she was beautiful, or as beautiful as filthy, diseased peasant girl could be anyway.

"Thank you for taking us back to our village," said the old man.

Adam stared at him.

"I can't believe I haven't introduced myself yet! I am Maurice, and this is my little girl, Belle."

Adam looked over at her, and was greeted with a scowl. The "little girl" looked strangely familiar. Where had he seen her before? He certainly could not have seen her at a ball if she was a mere peasant.

"Well, she's not little anymore obviously. She's a big girl now, aren't you, my little jingle Belle?"

Belle blushed and groaned at the mention of one of her many childhood nicknames.

"Belle, you haven't said hello to this nice man yet," Maurice reminded her. "That isn't like the polite girl I raised! And do stop scowling."

"Good afternoon," she muttered.

The prince did not answer. He just stared at her, trying to place her face in his mind.

"Where were you headed to?" asked Cogsworth.

"There's a fair on in Moulins. Belle and I were going there to enter my latest invention," answered Maurice. "Where are you coming back from?"

"The Master is getting married next year," Cogsworth told them, gesturing to Adam as he spoke. "We were visiting his betrothed."

"Oh, you are getting married? Congratulations. Is she pretty?"

"In a common way, yes," said Adam, tearing himself away from Belle's face. "To a peasant such as yourself, she would appear to be physically attractive."

Belle bit her lip and glared at him.

"My wife is very pretty. Of course, I haven't seen her in quite a number of years. She left when our daughter was a baby, but I imagine she is still beautiful. She'd have to be considering-" Maurice stopped himself. "Well, anyway, congratulations."

* * *

"Gaston, I don't think Belle's coming back today," said LeFou timidly. "Maybe we should call the wedding off."

Gaston ignored him and continued to stare at Belle's house.

"We've been waiting for six hours. It's getting dark. We've already eaten the cake. People are starting to go home."

"Ugh! Fine!" Gaston roared. He stormed off into the night leaving Le Fou and the rest of the villager to clear up the wedding.

Not five minutes after the last remaining villager left, the prince's carriage pulled up just outside Maurice's cottage. Maurice cheerfully thanked the Prince, Cogsworth, and Lumiere and hopped out of the carriage. Belle thanked Lumiere and Cogsworth, gave the prince one final glare, and followed her father out.

"He seemed nice," said Maurice to his daughter as they walked towards their house.

"Papa, do you know who that was?"

"No," Maurice replied happily. "Was he someone famous? Oh dear! Someone's left a wedding arch on our lawn. I wonder who was getting married."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

After several unsuccessful attempts, Maurice gave up hope of ever recreating his fire box. He was depressed at first, and moped around the house for several days, ignoring every attempt Belle made at cheering him up. One night, three weeks after they encountered the prince, they sat by the fire, Belle on the floor reading a book and Maurice at the table staring depressively into the flames. Suddenly, just as the clock struck nine, Maurice leapt from his seat, shouted that he finally had the answer to their troubles, and ran out the front door, leaving a very confused Belle staring after him.

Belle didn't see her father for five days. He would go to bed after she did and would rise before she woke. This wasn't peculiar. Maurice usually disappeared into his cellar for days whenever he got one of his brilliant ideas. She often heard explosions and strange sounds coming from the cellar, which was a usual occurrence whenever Maurice himself inside his cellar for days on end. One night, at around ten, just Belle was about to put her book away and head to bed, Maurice burst into the living room, shaking with excitement.

"Belle! I've done it this time! Come on!" Maurice took her by the hand and pulled her out the front door and down into the cellar. He couldn't stop grinning as he showed her his latest invention, which appeared to be a fireplace on wheels with a number of axes and levers sticking out of it.

"It looks very impressive, Papa," Belle said, running a hand across it. "But what is it?"

Beaming, Maurice excitedly told her that his bizarre device was an automatic wood chopper, and that he was going to take it to the fair in Perpignan where the first prize was worth two hundred livres. Belle was simultaneously shocked and excited.

"But Papa!" Belle gasped. "Perpignan must be around three hundred miles away! It's on the other side of the country almost. It would take you at least a week to get there. That is a lot of money, but are you sure?"

"Oh, I know dear, but you're old enough to stay here on your own for a few weeks. Just make sure to eat properly and not set the house on fire."

Belle frowned. It was rather hypocritical of her father to warn her against setting the house on fire when he had set their home alight far more times than she ever had, but she decided that it was best to not make an issue out of it.

"The fair is in nine days," Maurice told her. "It will take me a week to get there and a week to get back. I'll be gone for three weeks at most. I'll have to leave tomorrow, though. This is a fantastic opportunity, Belle. Our lives will change forever, if I win, and I'll be able to buy you anything you want. I want you to have the best."

"I only want you to come back safely, Papa," Belle smiled, kissing her father on the head.

The next day, Maurice, Philippe, and the automatic wood chopping machine set off on their journey. Belle watched them ride down the road and disappear into the hills before continuing on with her day. She cleaned the house, fed the animals, and made lunch for herself. After she finished eating, she went to her to bookcase to choose a book to sit down and relax with. As she perused the shelves, her expression slowly turned to disappointment. She must have read every single one of these books over twenty times. She could even recite entire passages from memory. She'd have to go down to the village if she wanted something to read something new. So she skipped out the door, down the little path to the village, past the stalls selling food and the mayor's office, and towards the bookshop.

Inside the office, Prince Adam yawned and leaned back in his chair. He would not dislike these visits to this ugly little town so much if only Mayor Absolon weren't so boring. It felt like the old windbag had been talking about taxes for hours.

"Am I boring you, your highness?" asked the mayor, concerned. "I do apologize. What would you prefer to discuss?"

"I'd like to go home," yawned Adam. "This meeting is becoming tedious."

"Why of course, your highness!" cried the mayor, leaping from his seat to open the door for the prince. "We can discuss taxes some other time."

Adam exited the office, with Lumiere and Cogsworth following him hastily, and set off down the crowded main street of the village where his carriage was waiting for him. A sign sitting by one of the fruit stalls caught his eye. The prince strode to the stall to inspect it.

"The world's best apples," Adam read. "How do you know that these are greatest apples in the world? Have you tasted every apple in the world?"

"My apples are very good, your highness. I can't imagine that there could possibly be any greater apples so they must be the best in the world," stammered the shopkeeper nervously. He held one of the fruits out to the prince. "Try one."

"No, your highness," cried the keeper of the opposite stall. "My apples are far better than Andre's. Try one of mine."

"Pierre," exclaimed Andre angrily. "You always try to take to customers away from me. I've had enough of it!"

Andre swung one spindly arm towards Pierre's face Pierre responded by kicking Andre in the knee.

There was no way this day could get any worse, thought Gaston to himself as he strode through town. He had woken up at the crack of dawn to go hunting and stayed out until after lunchtime, and yet he still didn't shoot a single thing. This was ridiculous. Even LeFou had managed to shoot a measly rabbit.

As it turned out, the day could get worse. Gaston's expression soured as his eyes laid upon the prince, who stood, with his entourage of sycophantic servants, watching those two morons, Pierre and Andre, get into their daily fight over fruit.

"Ugh!" he groaned.

LeFou, who had been proudly inspecting his latest kill, looked up to Gaston.

"What's wrong, Gaston?"

"The prince is here in town," Gaston spat in disgust. "That freeloading piece of scum. He deserves to be thrown off a cliff."

"Look Gaston!" LeFou pointed behind the prince. "There's a goose just sitting over there on the street. You could shoot it right now and show that wimpy prince what real manliness looks like."

"LeFou!" Gaston exclaimed. "I just had a brilliant idea. Look at that goose over there. I could shoot it now and show that wimpy prince what real manliness looks like. And look, there's Belle coming out of the bookshop now. She'll be so impressed after she sees my fantastic hunting skills that she'll just have to marry me."

"Brilliant idea, Gaston," agreed LeFou.

Belle looked up from her book and was shocked at the sight she was greeted with. Gaston had his gun raised and it was pointed directly at the prince. She knew that Gaston was not exactly the most honourable man in the world, but she had never believed him to be capable of murder. A wave of relief came over her when she saw the goose standing behind the prince. Gaston was probably trying to shoot that instead. But what was a goose doing in the middle of the village? And even if Gaston's intentions were partially pure, there was still a high chance that he would hit the prince, even if he was aiming for the bird.

Belle did not have a very high opinion of the prince, but she was not going to let someone be killed when she was in a position to stop it from happening. The rest of the village were gossiping, buying goods, and going on their way, seemingly unaware of what was happening. It was up to her. She dropped her book to the ground and began to run. She apologised as she pushed passed a group of old women, dodged the Baudelaire triplets, skipped through little Claire's jump rope, and leapt right onto Prince Adam's back, knocking him into Andre's stall just as she heard a shot fire.

"You got 'em, Gaston!" shouted LeFou, running over to inspect the carnage.

"His highness has chosen to fall into my apples!" cried Andre in delight. "My apples are the best! Take that, Pierre!"

Pierre screamed an unsavoury word at Andre and the shopkeepers' fight began all over again. Belle climbed off Adam's back. The prince sat up, rubbing his head and wondering what had happened. He looked up to see Belle striding away from him. Why did he keep seeing her?

"What did you do to me, you wench?" Adam demanded. "Get back here!"

Belle ignored him and marched up to Gaston and punched him right in the stomach. The hunter clutched his abdomen and recoiled.

"You fool!" Belle screamed. "You complete and utter moron! Why would you shoot your gun in the middle of town? You could have killed someone! Have you gone mad?"

"I-I was just trying to hit that bird," he stammered, showing a rare moment of weakness. He actually appeared to be vaguely scared of Belle.

Belle had no idea why she was acting like this, but she rather liked it. She felt so powerful and in-control. She should save a prince's life more often. Belle left Gaston behind and strode back to the prince who was being helped up by Lumiere and Cogsworth.

"Are you okay," she asked.

"What were you trying to do to me? You were trying to kill me, weren't you?" screamed the prince. "You peasants can't be trusted. You should all be locked up."

"No, Master," stammered Cogsworth. "You've got it all wrong. The young lady saved your life."

Adam considered Belle for a few moments.

"You saved my life?" he asked.

Belle nodded.

"Oh."

"Perhaps you should say thank you to the girl, Master," suggested Lumiere timidly.

Adam's mouth began to twitch.

"Thank you," he said hesitantly.

"You're welcome," Belle replied.

"A simple thank you doesn't seem to be enough," declared Lumiere. "She saved your life, after all. We should give her something as a token of our appreciation."

"Oh, of course!" agreed Cogsworth. "But what should it be?"

"Perhaps we should ask Mademoiselle…"

"Belle."

"We should ask Mademoiselle Belle back to the castle for dinner," suggested Lumiere hopefully. He and the other servants loved having guests. Unfortunately, the prince did not enjoy them quite as much.

"Very well," said Adam. "I don't suppose you've ever had a full three course meal before have you, girl?"

Belle was offended, but agreed to go back to the prince's castle. Papa was away and she wasn't much of a cook herself. It would be nice to have a good meal for a change. She climbed into the prince's carriage and they set off on their way. Adam stayed silent the entire ride. Belle didn't mind, though. She'd heard enough from him. She watched the trees go past and chatted to Lumiere and Cogsworth about life in the castle and her father's invention. Cogsworth told her that an automatic wood chopper would be useful back in the castle, and was asking for more information when the castle itself came into view.

Belle was amazed. The castle was enormous. It seemed to go on forever. The tips of some of its highest turrets couldn't even be seen from the ground. Adam jumped out of the carriage first, before Lumiere and Cogsworth began helping Belle out. The three of them followed the prince into the castle. The castle looked even bigger on the inside. It really was one of beautiful buildings she had ever seen. Lumiere disappeared through one of the many doors leaving Adam, Belle, and Cogsworth alone in the foyer.

"So, uh, Miss Belle, how long have you lived in that village?" asked Cogsworth, trying desperately to make the situation less awkward.

"Since January," answered Belle. "We lived in Paris before that."

"Why did you leave Paris?" asked Adam curiously.

"Papa said it was dirty and full of crime," replied Belle, looking at the prince strangely. Why did he want to know? "Papa said that it wasn't safe in the city. He didn't want me to become a strumpet. He wants me to marry a nice, respectable man and live a comfortable life. I've told him that I don't intend to get married to anyone and that I want to travel around to see all the places I've read about in my books, but he says that I'm being ridiculous and that I'll change my mind when I find the right man."

"That's sensible of him," said Adam. "Which is surprising. He seemed like an old crackpot when I met him. Women belong at home, serving a man, not gallivanting around the world."

"I've spoken to the chef," said Lumiere as he re-entered the room just in time to stop Belle from punching her second stomach that day. "He says that dinner won't be ready for two hours. Perhaps we should take the mademoiselle on a tour of the castle while you are waiting?"

"An excellent idea, Lumiere," declared Cogsworth. "What do you think, Mademoiselle?"

"I-I guess that would be fine," Belle stammered.

"And Master?"

"Fine," Adam grunted.

"Excellent, excellent," declared Cogsworth. "Follow me, everyone. The castle was built in the year one-one-zero-one by the king's brother. It came into the possession of the Laurent royal family in twelve-seventy when Louis IX willed it to Prince Adam's great-great-great-great-"

"I think she gets the point, Cogsworth," Adam interrupted.

"-great-grandfather. Interestingly, Louis IX supposedly had an affair with his wife and Prince Adam is rumoured to be his great-great-great-great-"

Adam groaned. Cogsworth lead them down a long hallway decorated with dozens and dozens of paintings.

"This is the portrait gallery. This is the prince's mother and father," said Cogsworth, pointing to a painting of a man and a woman, both with red hair and both with kind, smiling faces looking very much in love. "Lovely people. It's a shame they died so young."

Belle looked over to Adam and, for just a small moment, she could have sworn she saw a glint of humanity in his eyes.

"This is Prince Adam-Jean, his namesake, and this is his ancestor, Prince Abel. He had over three hundred people killed for not paying their taxes."

"What a shame," Adam muttered with a smirk.

Belle sighed. Apparently there wasn't a trace of humanity in the prince after all. The door opened and Mrs Potts entered the room, followed closely by Chip.

"Ah, Mrs Potts," greeted Cogsworth. "This is Mademoiselle Belle. Mademoiselle Belle, this is Mrs Potts, our housekeeper, and her son, Chip."

"Chip," Belle smiled. "I forgot you lived here. How have you been?"

Chips eyes widened. He beamed at her.

"Fine, fine," he said cheerily. "I've been meaning to go back to visit you, but I've just been so busy lately."

"Did you wash my horses today, boy?" asked Adam sharply.

"Not all of them, sir," said Chip nervously. "I didn't have time to do them all. I washed most of them, though. I just missed out on Sparkle and Lilywhite."

"What?" Adam thundered furiously. "I told you to wash all of them! What if I need to ride one of them? I can't go out riding a filthy horse!"

"You could just use one of the clean horses," suggested Chip, taking a quick step back to protect himself.

"Don't talk back to me, boy," screamed Adam. "I give you a home and food and this is how you repay me?"

Belle quickly pushed Chip out of the way and face the prince, her face growing red with anger. Don't do this, she told herself. She was going to regret it.

"I want to tell you that you are a rude, conceited, despicable man, but I can't," she told him. "You are not a man, and you don't deserve to be called one. You are a child. A selfish, mean little boy who has no regard for any other human being. You don't deserve to be a prince. You disgust me."

Belle raised her right hand and slapped the prince square across his face. The servants' jaws dropped. Adam stared at her, his mouth hanging open, too shocked to respond.

"Chip," she said sweetly, turning to him with a smile on her face. He took a step back. "Can you take me home?"

Chip could only stare at Belle. The expression on his face seemed to be a mixture of shock, terror, and respect. He looked from Belle to the prince to his own mother. He nodded nervously and motioned for Belle to follow him. Belle strode after him, leaving Adam still frozen in shock.

"S-should we go after her, Master?" asked Cogsworth.

Adam touched his cheek softly.

"Master?"

Adam turned away and walked slowly out the door. Cogsworth, Mrs Potts, and Lumiere exchanged worried glances.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Belle and Chip rode back to the castle in silence, despite Belle's repeated attempts at conversation. Chip was still too shocked to say anything. He finally broke his silence when he and Belle arrived at her cottage. Belle slid off the horse, and Chip, who had finally gotten over his shock, burst out with:

"That was amazing!"

"What was amazing?" Belle asked, looking up at Chip with a puzzled expression on her face.

"The way you spoke to the prince," he gushed. "And the way you slapped him! No one's ever spoken up to the prince like that! Everyone's terrified of him. How did you do it? "

"I don't know," Belle admitted. "I don't usually go around slapping people. I'm not really a violent and confrontational person, but I felt so empowered after I saved the prince's life that I changed into a different person, almost. I shouldn't have done it. He could easily have locked me up or had me killed. But he really needed a good slap."

"You should come over more often," he told her.

"I don't think so," Belle laughed. "I would probably be killed if I went back there."

"You're right," agreed Chip. "I'm dreading going back to the castle myself. The prince is going to be in a dreadful mood for weeks. Mind you, he's in a dreadful mood all the time so I don't think much will change."

Belle laughed and smiled warmly at him.

"It was nice seeing you, Chip," she said, turning towards her house. "Have a safe journey back."

"I was just wondering… D-do you want to… I thought maybe we could have a picnic together sometime. We could read books together and stuff."

Belle bit her lip and sighed.

"Chip, you're nice and all, but I am just not interested in having a romantic relationship," she told him "I don't want to be hurt and let down by a man. I never want to get married."

"I-I wouldn't hurt you, and I-I'm not asking you to marry me," Chip stammered.

"Courtship eventually leads to marriage," Belle pointed out. "I don't want to lead you on. I want to travel. I want to visit all the places I've read about in my books. I could never do that if I was tied down with a husband."

"But we could travel together!"

"Sooner or later we'd end up with a baby and we would have to settle down in some dull little village," Belle replied. "That might be fine for some people, but I couldn't bear it. I need adventure in my life. I'd probably end up leaving you sooner or later. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be like my mother. And, well… I just don't like you in that way, you know? You're an interesting and kind boy, and any girl would be lucky to have you, but I don't like you in any romantic sense. I'm sorry, but you deserve someone who really loves you and won't desert you. If I did ever get married, I'd have to really, really love him."

"I understand," Chip said quietly.

"Good." Belle smiled. "Thank you for taking me home. And thank you for understanding, Chip."

* * *

Belle's little village was struck by a vicious heat wave in the last week of July. It was unbearably hot. Belle had started sleeping with every window in the house open and her chemise soaked with water from the river. Gaston had taken to parading around the village with his shirt off, to the delight of most of the women in town. Unfortunately for him, Belle found the sight of his bulging muscles, jungle-like chest hair and perspiration soaked hair to be utterly revolting and tried to avoid him(and his repugnant scent) as much as possible. Belle couldn't even bear to read anymore, preferring instead to go swimming in the river and take long walks through the shady woods.

The beginning of August brought on a tremendous change in weather as France was plagued with some of the most awful storms that the country had ever seen. Business in the village was shut down for a full week as the streets became flooded. Monsieur Gaubert barricaded up the doors of his shop to stop the water from seeping in and destroying his books. Laurence Leclaire swore that he had been struck by lightning three times when he had gone out to feed his cows one night, but old Leclaire had never been the most truthful of men.

The three week mark came and went and Maurice still hadn't returned. Belle chose not to worry, though. Perpignan was a long way away, after all. Of course he would not arrive home exactly when he said he would, especially considering the awful weather. After another week went by and he had still not returned, Belle really began to worry. Her father didn't have the best sense of direction. He could have gotten lost and ended up in Prussia or Moldavia or Spain. When five weeks had gone by and he still had not returned home, she decided that something had to be done. She had to go after her father. But how? Philippe was their only horse and he was with Maurice. She didn't know anyone in the village well enough to ask to borrow their horse. She could ask Gaston for help, but he would probably laugh and tell her that she was better off without "that crazy old man" in her life.

Belle would have to search for Maurice on her own. She fetched her cloak from her bedroom, stuffed a map, half a loaf of bread, and all the money she could find into a small satchel, and headed towards the door. She took a deep breath, curled her hand around the knob, and pulled open the door. A huge gust of wind knocked Belle right onto her back. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. No, she had to find Papa. Belle struggled back to her feet and forced herself through the door. The rain fell down on her in bucket loads as soon as she stepped through the door.

Belle started off down the road towards the forest. Her wet clothes weighed her down like rocks. Her entire body was soaked. Her shoes were completely coated in mud. A peal of thunder rattled the dark grey sky. Belle shivered. The path became muddier and muddier as she entered the forest.

"Where are you, Papa?" she moaned.

For a few moments she considered heading back home. It wasn't too late. It was warm and dry there. There was nice big fireplace she could curl up next to, with a book in one hand, a cup of warm milk in the other, and a fuzzy blanket draped over her shoulders.

No, she had to find Papa. It could take weeks, months, or even years, but she was not going to go home without him. As she ventured further into the forest, it became harder and harder to walk. She was literally knee-deep in mud. It felt as though she was pulling a boulder along as she walked. Each leg felt as though it weighed two hundred pounds. There was no way that this situation could possibly get any worse.

As it turned out, the situation could get worse. Much, much worse.

A wolf's cry filled the air. Belle tripped over a fallen tree branch and fell head first into a deep mud puddle. She turned around and came face to face with a set of the sharpest teeth she had ever seen. She picked herself up and began to run as fast as she could. Unfortunately, the wolves could run much faster than she could. There were at least ten of them, all with sharp, terrifying yellow teeth and all with a hungry look on their face. She didn't think she could take this anymore. Think of Papa, she told herself.

She lost her footing at the top of a hill and tumbled down headfirst into another puddle of mud. Belle tried to pick herself back up, but it was no use. She had hurt her foot too badly to walk. There was nothing left to do except wait for death. The wolves circled around her. She held out her arms to them.

"Come on," she said to them. "Come get me. Might as well make this quick."

Suddenly, a blinding golden light filled the sky. Belle covered her eyes. It was far too bright to look at it. It lasted for a full five minutes, and when the light cleared the wolves were gone. Belle looked around and blinked. What had just happened? Where were the wolves? In the distance, she could see a tall, dark figure disappearing into the forest.

"Come back!" she called. "Were you the one who saved me? I really appreciate it! Please come back! I want to thank you properly."

The mysterious person did not come back. Belle poked her swollen, aching foot and sighed. She was safe from the wolves at least, but it was still raining and she couldn't walk. She was going to be stuck here until someone passed by. If someone passed by, she corrected herself. How could she have been so stupid? Her father could be anywhere. Why had she thought that it was a good idea to look for him alone and without a horse? Her stomach rumbled. Belle groaned. She was probably going to starve to death if the wolves didn't come back first. Remembering the loaf of bread, she grabbed her satchel and pulled it out. It looked more like a big wad of mush now, but at least it was food.

* * *

Prince Adam had done nothing but sulk for the past five weeks. He wandered about his castle for hours, only stopping to stare emptily out a window. His servants were both worried and relieved. The prince didn't yell at them anymore. In fact he barely said anything. A week ago, Adam had been summoned to Versailles to meet with the King and Queen. He had barely said a word the entire time, even when Cogsworth accidentally tripped him as they walked through the palace. He hadn't even been annoyed when the carriage broke down on the way back home.

"I'm sorry, Master," Cogsworth said apologetically. "The wheel has come off. The driver says that it will take an hour to repair."

"It's okay," Adam muttered. "I'll walk home. It's not far. Where is the umbrella?"

"Are you sure, Master?" asked Cogsworth as he handed the umbrella and a lantern to the prince.

"It's faster this way."

Adam stomped through the forest, deep in thought. He just could not stop thinking about that girl. How dare she speak up to him! How dare she slap him! His cheek still felt dirty. She had some nerve. He was absolutely furious at her. He went into a silent rage every time he thought about her. He tried to stop thinking about her, but he couldn't. He knew why, too. He had enjoyed being reprimanded. No one had spoken like that to him before. As a result, he had developed a slight infatuation with the girl. He could never admit it to anyone, of course. He was a mighty prince and she was a mere, weak peasant.

Adam nearly tripped as he stepped on something soft and squishy. The mysterious object cried out in pain. He peered down at it.

"You again!" he exclaimed. "Why are you all covered in mud?"

"Good evening," said Belle meekly. "Dreadful weather, isn't it?"

"Why do I keep seeing you?"

"Fate, I guess," she replied with a slight, painful laugh. "Can you help me?"

"Why are you lying in a puddle of mud?" asked Adam. "Is it part of a game that peasants play to keep their minds off the fact that they are completely worthless?"

"I was running away from a pack of wolves and I fell down here," Belle explained, trying not to look offended. "Can you take me home? I can't walk. My foot hurts dreadfully. I think it might be broken."

"Why should I help you?" Adam snarled. "You slapped me. You're lucky I didn't lock you up."

"I saved your life," Belle pointed out. "You owe me."

Adam considered this.

"Fine. I'll take you home. But we're even after this, remember."

"Whatever you say," said Belle, relieved.

"Wait here. I'll get my servants. They can carry you back to the carriage."

"Why don't you carry me yourself," asked Belle, batting her eyelids. She wasn't the sort of girl who flirted with men to get what she wanted, but she was desperate. "You look very strong."

Adam looked revolted.

"And get mud all over me?" he asked, disgusted. "No, thank you."

"Come on," Belle purred. "A big, strong prince like you couldn't possibly be afraid of a little mud. It would be much faster if you carried me."

"No," he declared defiantly. "You will wait here for my servants."

"Why are you so reluctant?" asked Belle with a sigh. "Maybe you aren't strong enough to carry me. Maybe you are weak and afraid to admit it. I'm not surprised. You are rather weedy."

Adam fumed. How dare she suggest that he was weak!

"You hold these," he said, handing her the umbrella and lantern. He picked her up into his arms and wobbled slowly through the trees back to where Cogsworth and the drive were. She was much heavier than she looked.

"Master!" cried Cogsworth when he saw them. "You're back! And just in time. We've fixed the wheel. Who is that you've got in your arms?"

"Cogsworth, the girl has hurt her foot and cannot walk," Adam said. "We need to take her home."

Cogsworth looked at Belle curiously.

"Aren't you the girl who saved the Master's life?" he asked.

Belle smiled shyly and nodded.

"What a coincidence!" he exclaimed. "If she is hurt then maybe we should take her back to the castle with us. We have one of the best doctors in the country."

"No, you don't have to do that," said Belle quickly. "Just take me back to my house. I'll be fine."

"What do you think, Master?"

Adam stared at Belle for a few moments.

"I think we should take the girl back to the castle with us," he said finally..

"There we have it," declared Cogsworth. "You can't ignore an order from your prince, Mademoiselle."

Belle and Adam locked eyes. For just one brief moment, she could have sworn she saw him smile at her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The carriage rattled through the castle gates and stopped in front of the main entrance. The door opened and Adam strode into the castle. Cogsworth and the driver helped Belle hobble from the carriage to the front door of the castle. Mrs Potts, who had been on her way to bed, gasped when she saw them enter the foyer, dripping mud all over the floor she and Babette had just spent a whole afternoon cleaning. She gasped again when she recognised the person hiding underneath the coat of mud.

"Oh, it's you! Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

Belle meekly told her the story of the wolves and how the prince had found her.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Mrs Potts gasped. "You could have died. It was lucky the Master found you when he did."

"Where is he?" Belle asked.

"Sulking in the West Wing as usual I suppose," Mrs Potts chuckled. "Babette, take this poor young girl upstairs and give her a bath."

Babette, an attractive, voluptuous maid who looked to be roughly twenty years older than Belle herself and who had been the watching the scene unfold quietly, came forward and took Belle by the arm and helped her climb up the grand staircase. The maid took her inside a small room that was completely bare except for a small dressing table and a grand porcelain bathtub. Mrs Potts entered the room moments later, carrying a basket of towels with her.

Babette and Mrs Potts helped Belle remove her dirty, mud-soaked clothing as Minnie and Eva, two of Mrs Potts' many children, brought three enormous buckets of steaming hot water into the room. Mrs Potts and her daughters departed the room, taking Belle's clothing with them, and Belle was left alone with Babette, completely naked and shivering. The maid sat Belle down in the bathtub and poured one of the buckets of water over her. Belle let out an agonizing scream. The water was scalding hot! It burned her skin so much that it turned a shade of magnificent red.

"Sorry, Mademoiselle," Babette murmured apologetically. "The water is still very hot. I really should have warned you."

"No, it's fine," said Belle quietly, touching her burning red skin and wincing.

"You're the one who slapped the prince, aren't you?"

"Yes," Belle admitted, wondering how Babette had known.

"We've been laughing about it for weeks," Babette giggled. "I wish I had been there to see it."

"It was quite funny, actually," said Belle, remembering the look on Adam's face and smiling to herself as Babette poured another bucket of scalding water over her head. "I'm not usually violent, though," she added quickly. "I'm quite demure most of the time, but he really needed it. I couldn't control myself."

"It was bound to happen sometime," said Babette. "Everyone here has thought about doing it, but we'd be locked up or executed or something. He certainly has changed since then, though."

"Really?" Belle asked curiously. "How so?"

"Oh yes," Babette replied cheerily. "He mopes around the castle all day. He doesn't even yell at us anymore. It's been quite blissful actually. He will probably be back to his old self soon enough, though."

It took Babette nearly an hour to get all the mud out of Belle's hair. By the time she got her out of the bath it was quite late and Belle's stomach had started to growl. Babette squeezed Belle's hair dry and gave her a blue cotton nightgown to wear for the night. She helped Belle hobble down the corridor towards the bedchamber she had been assigned to sleep in.

The bedchamber was bigger than her entire house! Right in the centre was an exquisitely carved, beautiful four poster bed that was easily bigger than her own bedroom at home. Mrs Potts appeared in the room a few moments later, carrying a pile of dresses in her arms. Lumiere followed her, carrying a tray laden with the most delicious-looking food that Belle had ever seen.

"Your clothes are being washed, dear," Mrs Potts told her. "I brought some other dresses for you to wear."

Belle climbed into the bed. It was the softest, warmest, most comfortable bed she had ever laid upon. Lumiere placed the tray of food before her. Belle grabbed the spoon and took a bite of cheese soufflé. A strange look came over her face. She took another bite and then another. Within seconds, the soufflé disappeared and Belle started on the soup.

"Slow down, love!" Mrs Potts gasped in alarm. "You'll make yourself sick!"

"You're hungry today, Mademoiselle," laughed Lumiere.

"Mmmhmmmphhmmeallmph," Belle mumbled, her mouth stuffed full of bread.

"Swallow and try that again, dear," giggled Mrs Potts. Belle obliged.

"I haven't eaten a meal like this… ever," she explained. "My father and I aren't the best cooks."

"Stay here as long as you like. We will serve you as much delectable, delicious food as you desire," Lumiere said with a wink. Babette glared at him.

"I can't," Belle told him as she finished her last bite. "My father is out there somewhere and I have to find him!"

"You won't be going far when your foot is like that," Babette said warningly.

"But I have to!" Belle cried. "My father could be in danger."

"We'll discuss this later. Lie down and rest, dear," Mrs Potts told her. "The doctor will see you in the morning."

Mrs Potts and Babette left the room. Lumiere followed them, carrying the empty tray with him. Belle lay down and snuggled against her pillows, desperately trying to drift off to sleep, but it was no use. She was in too much pain to sleep and she was worried about her Papa. She just wasn't tired. Besides, this room was so stuffy and warm. It would be impossible to sleep in here, even if she was tired.

Belle heaved herself out of bed and limped over to the window. It took all of her strength to push the enormous window open. She sat on the windowsill for a few moments, breathing in the fresh air. The rain had stopped an hour ago, though the sky was still too cloudy to see any stars.

"Where are you, Papa?" she whispered sadly, looking up at the black-grey sky as she felt warm tears fall down her cheeks.

Then she heard it. The most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life. It poured through the open window, filling the enormous room with music. It was soothing and deeply emotional. The music was filled with sadness and despair, yet it also sounded so full of hope. Visions of rainbows, luscious gardens, and angels taking flight filled Belle's imagination. It was more than just music. To Belle, it was the melodic embodiment of heaven. She limped back to her bed and sank into the mattress. For what must have been hours she listened as the melodious, gentle music slowly lulled her off to sleep.

* * *

When she awoke the next morning, Belle was startled to find herself in a strange bed. She sat upright and started to panic. It took her a few moments to remember the events of the previous night. Relieved, she lay back down and relaxed, slowly falling back to sleep. Her bed was so warm and soft, like a big fluffy cloud. It was such a nice change from the tiny, ancient, lumpy thing she had to sleep on at home. She could get used to sleeping on one of these every night. Unfortunately for her, Mrs Potts came bustling in just a few minutes later, jolting Belle out of a light slumber.

"Good morning, dear," she chirped, placing a tray of porridge, tea, and fresh fruit in front of her. "Eat up, eat up. The doctor will be here to see you in just a moment."

Doctor Boucher was a scrawny, soft-spoken, nervous little man who needed to stand on a chair in order to inspect Belle's foot. He had been a confident, eager, freshly-educated young man when he had first arrived at the castle, but twenty years of belittlement and verbal abuse had destroyed his spirit. The poor doctor poked and prodded at Belle's foot for ten minutes, his face growing more and more pained as time went on.

"You haven't broken it," he finally determined. "Your ankle has merely been twisted. It will heal up in five or six weeks, but until then you need to stay off your feet."

"But I can't!" Belle whined. "I have to find my father."

"Where is your father, young lady?" asked the doctor.

"I'm not sure," Belle admitted. "He went to Perpignan and was supposed to arrive back a few weeks ago. He's not good with directions and I'm afraid he could be anywhere now."

"I don't searching for him will be any use, my dear," Mrs Potts told her sadly. "What if you got lost yourself? It is possible he just decided to stay longer than he originally intended to."

Chip came to see Belle that afternoon. He had heard the she was staying the in the castle the previous night but had been reluctant to come see her until now, the awkward conversation he had with her still ringing in his head. They spoke for a few moments about books they had read and places they had dreamed of going before he excused himself to clean out the horse stables.

Just moments after he left, Belle received another, albeit unexpected, visitor.

"How are you?" Adam asked, avoiding eye contact with her.

"Fine," Belle smiled awkwardly.

"Good."

Adam and Belle stared at each other uncomfortably.

"Thank you for saving me," Belle said, smiling shyly. "And I'm sorry I slapped you. It was a very unladylike thing for me to do and I regret doing it."

Adam muttered something incomprehensible and wandered out of the room, leaving Belle feeling very confused.

* * *

That night, Belle heard the music again. She listened for a few hours, letting her imagination run wild, before she became restless. She couldn't take this anymore. She had to find the source of this angelic sound. She swung herself out of bed and, wincing in pain, slowly made her way out of the room and into the hallway. She limped down the menacing, dark corridors and up the long, steep staircases, concentrating on the music to keep her mind of the pain. The music began louder and clearer as the hobbled on. Belle smiled, knowing that she was getting closer.

She finally reached the end of a long corridor and found herself facing a pair of large oak doors. The music was now louder than it had ever been. Belle reached out and clasped her hand over the doorknob. She hesitated for a few moments, before putting all worry out of her mind and pushing the door open.

The room was lit only by a small candelabrum. Prince Adam stood by the window. He rested a small, wooden stringed instrument under his chin. With one hand, he moved his fingers across the strings at end of the instrument with lightning fast accuracy. With the other hand, he danced a long bow across the body of the instrument. His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed with concentration.

Belle closed her and concentrated on the music. This is what making love must feel like, she thought to herself. She couldn't imagine anything more beautiful. She was still half in shock, though. She would never have believed something so laden with emotion and passion could come out of someone like the prince. But, now that she thought about it, everyone had their passionate side and it had to come out some way, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. Except maybe Gaston. He was a lost cause. But then if the prince could produce something so beautiful, then maybe-

Belle's thoughts were rudely interrupted as the door slammed shut behind her. The music haulted abruptly and Adam opened his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you," said Belle quickly. "Please don't stop playing because of me."

"What you doing here?" Adam asked. There was a dangerous, threatening tone in his voice.

"I could hear you from my room," Belle stammered nervously. "The music sounded so beautiful that I had to find out where it was coming from. There was a picture of one of them in a book I read," she told him, pointing to the instrument. "It's a violin, isn't it? I've never heard it being played before, though. It sounds so beautiful. Please continue. "

"No, I can't," Adam refused. "Not while you're here."

"May I hold it?" asked Belle.

"I'd rather you didn't," replied Adam coolly.

"Oh, that's fine," said Belle, smiling weakly. "I understand how personal it must be to you. Who taught you?"

"No one."

"No one?" Belle gasped. "Then how did you learn to play so well?"

"I don't know," admitted Adam. "Well, that's not really true. I found the violin in my parents' old bedchamber when I was four. It belonged to my mother. Cogsworth has told me that she was a brilliant musician. In fact, it was what made my father fall in love with her. I was curious so Lumiere taught me how to hold it and how to use the bow and how to read music. Apparently he briefly courted a violinist in his youth." At this point, Adam paused and rolled his eyes.

"How did your mother die?" Belle asked before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry. I was just curious. I didn't mean to-"

"I killed her," said Adam grimly. Belle took a worried step back. "She died just after I was born. She held me in her arms for a few moments and then passed on with no warning. I killed both my parents, actually. My father was so distraught after her death that he threw himself off the south tower a few months later."

"No!" Belle gasped. "You can't blame yourself for that! It wasn't your fault."

Adam stared at her. He was surprised at himself. Why did he tell her all of that? He shouldn't have told her anything. She was a filthy peasant. His life was none of her business.

"I never knew my mother either," Belle continued. "She left us when I was a baby. I know it's not the same, though. I still have my father, after all, and my mother is technically still alive. Well, she could be. Papa thinks she's going to come back to us someday, but she is dead to me."

Adam did not answer her, instead placing his violin into a small, velvet lined, wooden case.

"Please continue playing," Belle pleaded. "I want to hear more. I've never heard anything so beautiful before in my life."

"I think you should go back to bed," he said gruffly.

"You could pretend I'm not here," Belle suggested hopefully.

"Go back to bed now!" Adam roared.

Belle hastily hobbled out of the room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

* * *

The next morning, Belle asked the servants to take her home. She wanted to be there in case Maurice finally returned. Many of the servants begged her to stay. They had grown to like serving her. It was a pleasure to serve anyone who didn't scream at them if they made one miniscule mistake. Mrs Potts returned her old, freshly cleaned clothing to her and Cogsworth and Lumiere helped her wobble to the carriage and waved to her as it rattled back out through the gates. As she looked back at the castle one last time, Belle could have sworn she saw the prince staring at her out of one of the tower windows.

When they finally arrived back at the cottage, Belle gave the driver a kiss on the cheek and, after giving Philippe a quick pat on the nose, began to limp inside. Then she stopped in realization. She looked back. Philippe was grazing innocently outside their house. That must mean-

"Belle!"

"Papa!" Belle cried.

Maurice appeared in the doorway and rushed forward to take Belle in his arms, which was quite a feat as he was quite a bit shorter than his daughter.

"When I got home last night and you weren't there I was so worried," Maurice gushed, hugging his daughter as tight as possible. "I was just about to go out to look for you."

"I missed you so much. Where have you been, Papa?"

"The storms kept me in Perpignan longer than I expected," he told her. "Where have you been?"

"I went out looking for you but I got hurt and-"

"You're hurt?" asked Maurice in alarm.

"My ankle's twisted," Belle explained "I'm supposed to stay off my feet for the next six weeks."

"Don't worry, my little Belle," Maurice said, bringing her into an even tighter hug. "Your Papa will look after you. That's what Papas are for. "

"Oh, Papa, I'm not a little girl anymore," Belle whispered, burying her face into her father's shoulder. She smiled to herself. "But I don't mind. I love you."

* * *

_The amount of Vivaldi and Bach I had to listen to in preparation for this chapter was ridiculous. Not that I'm complaining, of course. I love Vivaldi and Bach. Thank you to everyone who helped with this chapter. You know who you are._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Maurice spent the next few weeks lovingly tending to his injured daughter. He dutifully massaged Belle's aching foot and cooked bowls upon bowls of unpleasant smelling mush. He even went into town to get food and books for her. Belle was shocked. Her father almost never went into the village and she could understand why. The rest of the town just did not seem to like him. Belle was not surprised by this, though. The town did not like anyone who did not act or think the way they did. They saw people like her and her father as threats to their way of life. Granted, the villagers were not all bad. They loved their families and worked hard, but the way they idolized Gaston and the way they treated Lenore and Dulcinea and her father absolutely disgusted her.

Belle's ankle had almost completely healed up by the time October rolled around. When she could finally walk without help, she decided to take her first trip into town in weeks to return the books her father had borrowed on her behalf. The village was almost deserted that morning. It strongly resembled the ghost town she had come across when she had first arrived in the town. Belle was confused for a few moments, before she remembered that it was Thursday. Very few of the merchants opened up their stalls on Thursday. It was considered bad luck to do so by many in the area. Belle found Lenore and Dulcinea by the fountain. Lenore sat holding her head in her hands as her daughter played peacefully at her feet. Belle approached them tentatively.

"Good morning, Lenore," she greeted in as cheerful a tone she could manage. Lenore looked up at her. Long dark spots hung underneath her brilliant blue eyes like black leather bags and her face was whiter than virgin snow.

"Oh, good morning, Belle," Lenore yawned. "How are you? I heard you were injured."

"I was, but I'm fine now," Belle smiled. "How are you? I haven't spoken to you in a while. You look exhausted."

"I am. Dulcie is a lot of work." Lenore smiled back weakly. "Can I ask you something personal, Belle?"

"Of course!"

"What happened to Gaston? I thought you were going to marry him."

"I-I was never going to marry Gaston," gasped Belle. The mere suggestion positively disgusted her. "I'd rather be imprisoned for life than marry that oaf. Not that there's much difference, mind you. What made you think a horrible thing like that?"

"Oh." Lenore tried to hide her relief. "I don't know. Exhaustion, I guess. Forget I said it."

"You do look tired," Belle told her sympathetically. "You poor thing. Don't you have someone who can babysit her for a few hours?"

"My aunt minds her occasionally, but she has been sick recently and doesn't have as much energy as she used to," replied Lenore solemnly.

"I can look after her for a while if you want," Belle offered.

"Are you sure?" asked Lenore, surprised.

"Of course!" Belle insisted, waving her hand dismissively.

"How much time have you spent with young children in the past?" asked Lenore, unconvinced.

"Not much," Belle admitted. "I'm an only child. But I have read a lot of books about babies and children do seem to like me quite a bit. How hard can it be?"

"Well, if you're sure you can handle it you can pick her up tomorrow morning," Lenore told her, still sounding unconvinced.

"I am sure I'll be able to handle it," Belle told her confidently.

* * *

The next morning, Belle arrived at the derelict little cottage where Lenore lived with her aunt. Truth be told, Belle had never been as fond of babies as she felt she should be. She found small children to be quite adorable and entertaining in small doses, but she found babies and toddlers to be rather confronting. They were cute when they quiet and well-behaved, but Belle got very nervous when they started to cry and whine, even if she was not the one responsible for them. Nevertheless, Belle had wanted to do something nice for Lenore, whom she felt ever so sorry for and this was all she could offer to do for her.

"Oh, Belle!" Lenore exclaimed when she opened the door. The older girl beamed at her. "You're here early. Come in, I've just finished giving Dulcinea her breakfast."

Belle followed Lenore into the house. Though the house looked derelict and rundown on the outside, the inside was perfectly immaculate. Little Dulcinea sat on a little ragged brown blanket next to an old wooden table surrounded by broken toys. A handsome older woman with curly silver-grey hair, thin pink lips, and a charming crooked nose sat opposite the baby. She stood up as she noticed Lenore and Belle enter the room.

"Belle, this is my Aunt Rosemonde," Lenore said, gesturing to the woman.

"Good morning, ma'am," Belle greeted her, dutifully curtseying to the older woman.

"Belle, Lenore has told me so much about you," Rosemonde said, curtseying back. "You really are a pretty girl, aren't you?"

Belle blushed furiously. Dulcinea looked up from her toys and smiled as she noticed Belle. She stood up and toddled towards her.

"Good morning, Dulcinea," Belle cooed. She reached out and took the little girl in her arms.

"Where are you going to take her?" asked Lenore.

"Oh, just down to the river. Then I thought I'd take her to the bookshop and read to her for a while. Papa started reading to me when I was her age," replied Belle, tickling Dulcinea under the chin.

The problems began as soon as Belle waved good bye to Lenore and Rosemonde and stepped out the door. Dulcinea was much heavier than she looked. Belle's arms were so thin and dainty that it was difficult to carry the small girl. Dulcinea, evidently, did not like being carried either. As Belle struggled down the main street of the village, Dulcinea began to wriggle and writhe in her arms. Belle just couldn't take it anymore. Her arms gave way and Dulcinea fell to the floor. Fortunately, she was unscathed. However, she took off like a lightning bolt and disappeared into the crowds.

"No, Dulcinea! Come back!" Belle cried. She quickly chased after the little girl, pushing past various villagers and calling after the toddler. Finally Belle saw her, running as fast as her tiny legs could carry her and into the arms of the last person Belle expected to see.

"Oh, Your Highness. Good morning," Belle smiled as she rushed up to him. "What a surprise to see you here."

"I just met with your mayor," Adam replied gruffly, holding Dulcinea as if she were a dirty chamber pot. "You look well."

"Yes, my foot healed up quite quickly, thank you," Belle replied shyly. "And thank you for catching her. Dulcinea just doesn't like being carried, I guess."

Adam looked down at Dulcinea and his eyes widened.

"I-I didn't know that you... You never mentioned that-" he stammered, quickly handing her over to Belle.

"No, no, no," Belle laughed. "Heavens no! She isn't mine. I'm looking after her for a friend."

Adam tried as hard as possible to not look relieved.

"Why didn't you just let her walk on her own?" he asked.

"I-I didn't think of that," Belle admitted, embarrassed. "Would you like to hold her?"

"I'm not particularly fond of babies," he replied with a grimace.

"Neither am I actually, but Dulcie's a good little girl. Most of the time anyway. I'm taking her down to the river. Would you like to come with us?" Belle asked kindly.

"I'm busy."

"Master, it's going to take another half hour to fix the carriage," Cogsworth said, popping up from behind them. "This is the fifth time it's broken down this year. I don't know why you just don't get a new one."

Adam muttered something that sounded vaguely like "incompetent" under his breath.

"So are you coming?" asked Belle.

"Fine. I've got nothing better to do," he shrugged nonchalantly, though Belle could have sworn she detected a slight hint of excitement in his voice. They walked down to the riverbank together with Belle keeping a tight grip on Dulcinea's hand.

"Stay away from the water, Dulcinea," Belle warned her, reluctantly releasing her grip on the little girl's hand. She stood back to stand next to Adam, who was watching a small boat carrying a young couple float past. They stood together in silence for a few moments, each unsure of what to say to the other.

"I am sorry I slapped you," Belle finally said. "It was a terribly unladylike thing for me to do and I regret it."

"You said that before," murmured Adam.

"I thought I should tell you again," replied Belle nervously. "I really would like us to be friends. I don't believe that you're really as bad a person as you seem to be on the surface."

"Thank you," Adam replied stiffly.

"I really wish that you would be kinder to your servants, though. They try their best."

"I know," Adam admitted.

"Then why do you treat them so badly?" questioned Belle, surprised.

"Y-you wouldn't understand," Adam sighed.

"Why not?" Belle challenged.

"You are a mere peasant girl. I am a prince. "

"And?"

"I have a reputation to uphold."

"I think that you should start being nicer to them," said Belle. "I believe that both your subjects and your servants would respect you more if you treated _them_ with respect. But what would I know? I am just a mere peasant girl."

Adam muttered something under his breath again. Belle chose to ignore it.

"Do you believe in fate, Prince Adam?" she asked.

Adam snorted.

"Fate is something peasants believe in to make themselves feel better about their lives."

"Well, I feel like the world is trying to tell us something," said Belle. "It's like there is something we have to do together. That's why we keep running in to each other."

"We keep running into each other because I often visit your village and because you're a troublemaker. A peasant like you has no business even looking at a prince like me."

"Do you really mean that or are you just saying that so that you can feel better about yourself? Why can't you just be nice to people?"

"Because I don't want to show signs of weaknesss," Adam admitted a few moments of hesitation.

"Weakness?" Belle laughed. "You most definitely are not weak. You're a prince."

"A powerless prince. I am just a figurehead," Adam sighed. "The King has real power. I just have money, property, and a title."

"Powerless?" Belle repeated, confused. "Then why do you come to the village to meet with the mayor all the time?"

"The King uses me as a proxy and a messenger for this province. I do rule over this area and I get a share of the taxes, but I have to enforce his laws. I can't make any of my own. I can implement taxes, but I still need to get his approval. Other than that, my role is purely ceremonial. My family hasn't had any real power in centuries," Adam explained.

"Oh," Belle said softly. "I am sorry, but maybe it's for the- No, Dulcinea! I told you to stay away from the water!"

Dulcinea had disobeyed Belle's order and had gone dangerously close to the water, which had caused the poor girl to slip on the riverbank and fall into the murky water.

"Can she swim?" Adam asked, a slight panicked tone in his voice.

"Of course not! She's barely two!" Belle snapped irritably.

"I was just asking."

Belle started running towards the water, but Adam overtook her. He forced off his jacket, kicked off his boots, and waded into the river. He reached into the water and pulled out Dulcinea who was, miraculously, still conscious. He carefully placed the girl on the riverbank and proceeded to pull himself out of the river. Dulcinea sat up and coughed a large amount of water out of her mouth. Belle took the toddler into her arms and hugged her to her chest.

"Oh, Dulcinea, I am so sorry. I really should have been watching you more closely. I'm a terrible babysitter," Belle wailed. She looked up at Adam, who was pulling his boots back over his soaking wet socks. "Thank you so much, Your Highness! You didn't have to do it, really. I could have gone in after her."

"You told me to start being nicer to people," Adam shrugged.

"This wasn't the sort of thing I had in mind," Belle smiled. "But I am incredibly grateful."

"Master! We've fixed the carriage," called Cogsworth from the top of the hill. "Why are you all wet?"

"Good bye, mademoiselle," said Adam quickly.

"Mademoiselle? Well, it's a step up from peasant girl, I suppose," Belle said. "I wouldn't mind it if you called me Belle, though."

Adam started walking up the hill towards Cogsworth.

"Prince Adam," Belle called after him. He turned around to face her. "The next time you're in town... Maybe… Maybe you could come to see me again?"

Adam stared at Belle for a few moments, before he nodded slightly, and continued on his way.

"I just don't understand him, Dulcinea," Belle said to the little girl. "It's like he's two different people with two entirely different personalities. One minute he's being standoffish and callous, then the next he's telling me his life story. He is, undoubtedly, the strangest person I've ever met."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Very early in the evening of the following Saturday, Maurice, who had just started preparing dinner and was in the process of chopping up an unusually large carrot, was interrupted by a knock at the door. He carefully set his knife down on the table and went into the living room to answer it. He was surprised to find a tall, handsome, redheaded man dressed in an expensive blue suit standing on his doorstep.

"Good evening," greeted Adam stiffly. "Is your daughter in?"

"She certainly is!" Maurice turned around and called up the stairs. "Belle, there's a young gentleman here to see you! So, do you live around here?" he asked, turning back to the prince.

"Not exactly," replied Adam curtly.

"Oh no, of course not!" exclaimed Maurice. "I remember you. You're the prince, right?"

"That is correct," Adam confirmed.

"What an honour it is for you to be visiting our home," Maurice said, beaming. "Belle has told me so much about you. She's taken quite a shine to you."

"Really?" asked Adam curiously.

"Oh, yes," Maurice told him happily. "I am quite pleased by this development, of course. Belle has been going through a bit of a phase lately. She keeps telling me that she will never get married because she doesn't want to be burdened by a husband and children. In her eyes, men are all scoundrels who view women as nothing more than objects. Teenagers!" Maurice chuckled and shook his head. "Then again, I suppose she likes you because she knows that you have no romantic interest in her as you are already engaged to another woman."

"I-I guess so," stammered Adam. The mention of his fiancée had caught him off-guard. He had completely forgotten about her.

"Oh, Prince Adam!" Belle exclaimed as she appeared in the doorway next to her father. "This is a pleasant surprise. Did you just meet with the mayor?" Belle peered behind his back. "Where are your servants?"

"I'll leave you two alone," said Maurice, winking at Adam as he shuffled off back to the kitchen.

"I came by myself," Adam told Belle, gesturing to a tall, elegant stallion grazing nearby.

"Well, I have to take a book back to Monsieur Gaubert before it gets dark," she said, holding up a thin, red book with gold lettering emblazoned on the spine. "Would you like to come with me?"

Adam nodded. Belle shut the door behind her and the two of them set off towards the village.

"I am glad you came to see me," Belle said. "I really do want us to be friends."

Adam grunted.

"How are things at the castle?" she asked.

"Fine."

"How are your servants?"

"They're fine too."

"I had forgotten I even borrowed this book. I only just found it under my bed. _Beauty and the Beast_ was my favourite story when I was a little girl," she said, showing him the book. "Have you ever read it?"

"I don't read," Adam replied curtly.

"You don't read? Why not?" Belle demanded, looking at him as if he had just told her that he enjoyed killing small children and feasting on their insides.

"Books do not interest me," replied Adam.

"You'd like this one," Belle insisted.

"Why?"

"It's got magic and romance and intrigue and mythical creatures. You'd like it if you gave it a try, trust me," Belle told him confidently.

"No, Dulcinea! Come back!" called a frantic voice just as the pair entered the constraints of the village. Dulcinea came speeding towards them and attached herself to Adam's leg. Adam looked as if he had just been attacked by a small rodent. Dulcinea smiled up at the prince, her icy blue eyes sparkling warmly.

"That's so sweet," cooed Belle, bending down to pat Dulcinea on the head. "She likes you. I'm not surprised, though. You did save her life after all."

"Dulcinea, there you are!" Lenore huffed as she came running up. She took a moment to catch her breath before greeting them. "Good evening, Belle. Good evening-" She stopped mid-sentence as she noticed who Belle's companion was.

"Prince Adam, this is Lenore," Belle said, gesturing the older woman. "She is Dulcinea's mother. Lenore, this is Prince Adam."

"Yes, I have seen him around before," said Lenore. "Good evening, Your Highness."

"Good evening, Madame," Adam greeted her uncomfortably. Belle gently pried Dulcinea off Adam's leg and handed her to Lenore.

"My Dulcinea likes you a lot," Lenore told the prince. "I've never seen her act like this around a stranger before."

"Prince Adam saved her life when she fell into the river last week," Belle told her.

"Oh, so that was you?" asked Lenore, flashing the prince a grateful smile. "I can't thank you enough for that." She turned to Belle. "By the way, Belle, you are a nice girl, but I think I'm going to have to turn you down the next time you offer to babysit."

"I don't blame you," said Belle, her face turning bright red. "Oh, but what if the prince was with me?"

Adam looked at Belle as if she had just volunteered him to be the subject of a human sacrifice.

"Maybe," said Lenore with a small smile. She turned to Belle again. "Gee, I had no idea you and the prince were such good friends."

"We're not friends, really," said Belle quickly. "We just keep bumping into each other."

"Oh." Lenore frowned. "Well, you will have to excuse me. I must get home and start dinner. It was nice meeting you, Your Highness."

Adam and Belle continued to walk through the busy village towards the bookshop. Hushed, excited whispers followed them as they made their way through the streets. Though Adam often visited the village, he usually did not stay longer than the time it took for him to meet with the mayor and make his escape. For the villagers, it was quite a shock to see their prince strolling along with the girl many had dismissed as being a book-crazed oddball who, while insanely pretty, was destined to become an old maid due to her disinterest in non-fictional men.

Monsieur Gaubert had been about to lock up for the night when Belle and Adam walked into the shop.

"Ah, Belle," he exclaimed as he greeted his best-and only-customer with a kiss on the cheek. He glanced over at Adam and his jaw dropped.

"Good evening, Monsieur Gaubert," Belle greeted him. "This is Prince Adam."

"Good evening, sir," Adam murmured quietly.

"Your Highness, what a pleasure it is to meet you!" declared the bookseller, rushing forward to shake the prince's hand. "You look just like your mother."

"My mother?" repeated Adam, confused.

"Your parents used to come into my shop all the time," the bookseller explained. "Lovely couple. I remember how excited your father was when he told me that his wife was expecting a baby. It's a shame they left the world in such tragic ways."

"They liked books?" asked Adam curiously. Truth be told, the prince did not know all that much about his parents. Several of the older servants occasionally mentioned them in passing, but he had never gleaned enough information to get an idea of what they were really like.

"They loved them," said the bookseller. "Reading was one of the many things they bonded over. They must have bought thousands of books from me over years."

"Monsieur, I just found this book under my bed. I had forgotten all about it," Belle said, handing _Beauty and the Beast_ to Monsieur Gaubert.

"I had forgotten you borrowed it," confessed Monsieur Gaubert with a slight chuckle.

"I am trying to persuade His Highness to read it. Do you think he could borrow it for a few days?"

"He can keep it if he wants," offered Monsieur Gaubert.

"You are very kind, Monsieur," said Belle, smiling as Monsieur Gaubert gave her the book. She pushed it into Adam's hands. "We should probably get going now. It's getting dark."

As they exited the bookshop, they came across yet another familiar face.

"Prince Adam? What are you doing here?" wheezed the mayor, as he waddled up to them. "We didn't have a meeting today."

"I-I'm just visiting someone," Adam stammered. Belle raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, good evening, Belle. I didn't see you there. Well, I must be off now. The wife gets dreadfully upset when I'm late for dinner, you know. Have a nice night." The mayor shook Adam's hand and waddled off into the night.

"You didn't have a meeting today, huh?" Belle grinned from ear to ear. "That means you came all the way here just to see me. I'm flattered." Adam was thankful that it was too dark for her to see his reddening face.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing towards a large building that a large group of men were entering.

"That's the tavern."

"What do you do in there?"

"_I_ don't go in there myself," said Belle. "Men go in, they get drunk, they ogle at the barmaids, and they stagger home at one o'clock in the morning."

Overcome with curiosity, Adam strode towards the tavern.

"Where are you going?" Belle called after him.

"I'm going to look around inside. I have never been inside a peasant tavern before. I want to see how commoners spend their evenings."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. You wouldn't like it in there," insisted Belle.

Adam ignored her and pushed open the tavern doors. Belle reluctantly followed him in.

"Gaston, look! It's Belle!" cried LeFou. He and Berenice had been sitting together at the bar as they watched Gaston chug a whole keg of beer. "She's never come in here before!"

"And she's with the prince!" gasped Berenice.

Gaston finished off the keg and threw it to the ground.

"What's _he_ doing here?" he demanded, glaring at the two newcomers.

Meanwhile, Belle and Adam were standing by the fireplace, inspecting the animal heads displayed on the wall.

"Who decorated this place?" the prince asked in disgust.

"I'm going to sit down," said Belle, taking the book from him. "Tell me when you're ready to go." She sat down at an empty table by the window and started thumbing through _Beauty and the Beast_, glancing up every few seconds to check on Adam.

Adam screwed up at his face as he stared around at animal heads. The whole building had a morbid, eerie vibe to it. A putrid smell entered his nostrils and Adam turned around to see Gaston glaring at him.

"I think you should leave now, _Your Highness_," Gaston ordered, sneering at the prince. His breath reeked of alcohol.

"Who are you?" asked Adam. There was something very familiar about Gaston's eyes. Adam felt like he had seen them somewhere before.

"I am the owner of this tavern and Belle's future husband," Gaston spat. "I would appreciate it if you stayed away from her."

Adam was taken aback. Belle had never mentioned being engaged to him before. Her father had given him the impression that she despised the mere idea of marriage. Perhaps Belle hadn't told him about their relationship yet?

"Leave now or I will make you leave," Gaston demanded. The tavern fell quiet, and all eyes turned to where the two men were standing.

"I am your prince. I have a right to be here, " Adam told him curtly.

"You're a drain on society like all royals," Gaston hissed.

"You're trying to pick a fight now. I have no interest in participating in a fistfight with a loutish peasant such as yourself," Adam said, turning his back on Gaston.

"You're a coward," Gaston screamed.

That did it. Adam turned around and swung a punch at Gaston's face, but before his fist reached its destination, Gaston kneed him in the stomach. Adam clutched his abdomen and fell to the floor in pain. Gaston smirked triumphantly and flexed his muscles. The entire tavern erupted in laughter. Belle couldn't help but giggle to herself a little. The sight of the prince, who had once stood so tall and mighty, reduced to a crumpled heap on the floor was both pathetically tragic and morbidly humorous at the same time. However, she instantly regretted it as she saw the pain in Adam's eyes as he looked up at her. The prince struggled to his feet, shot her a look of disdain, and stormed out of the tavern.

Belle quickly grabbed the book, pushed past Gaston, and ran after him. The cold night air stung her cheeks as she surveyed the area. She caught sight of the prince striding purposefully towards her cottage where his horse was waiting for him.

"Prince Adam, wait! I'm so sorry!" she called, running after him.

By the time she finally managed to catch up with him he had already found his horse and was about to mount him when Belle came running up to him.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," she wheezed, desperately trying to catch her breath. "I shouldn't have laughed at you. Please forgive me."

"I'm sorry about your fiancé," muttered Adam.

"My fiancé?" Belle repeated, confused.

"That oaf in the tavern."

"Gaston isn't my fiancé!" Belle snorted in disgust and wrinkled her nose. "I don't know how you got that idea."

"He told me he was your future husband," said Adam.

"That explains it. I wouldn't marry Gaston if my life depended on it," Belle said. "I suppose he thinks that he's charming and attractive, but he's really a revolting, repugnant little rat. He's obsessed with me and there is nothing I can do to repel him. The attention he gives me is flattering, I must admit that, but I'm just not interested in him. Of course, every other girl in the village would kill to be in my shoes. I don't understand it."

"Really? Him?" Adam asked in disbelief. "He smells like a putrid deer carcass. Looks like one too," he added. Belle sniggered.

"You should see him with his shirt off," she said, shuddering in disgust at the memory of Gaston strolling around the village completely bare-chested. "Why can't he go bother one of the other girls and leave me alone? Why can't he see that I am just not interested in him?"

"Maybe that's why he wants you," suggested Adam. "You are beautiful, of course, but I think there is something more to his obsession. He sees you as nothing more than a trophy. He doesn't have any real feelings for you, though he might think he does. You represent the ultimate challenge for him. You are like that one animal in the forest that he has yet to shoot and hang on his wall."

"I guess you're right. I suppose I could try pretending to be interested in him, but I don't think- Wait, you think I'm beautiful?" asked Belle in delight.

Adam's face reddened.

"You'd have to be with a name like Belle," he said with a shrug.

"That's not my real name," said Belle. "Not the one my parents gave me when I was born, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"My real name is Evelina," Belle said after a few moments of hesitation. "Revolting, isn't it? Please don't tell anyone."

"I think it's rather pretty actually," replied Adam.

"Really?" asked Belle in surprise. A slight blush crept over her face.

"Belle suits you more, though," Adam continued.

"When we first met you said I was ugly," Belle reminded him.

"I did?"

"Don't you remember?" asked Belle. "I accidentally bumped into you while I was reading a book and you started screaming at me."

"Oh, yes. I remember now," Adam said, his face turning even redder. "We never did have that dinner together, you know."

"No, we didn't," confirmed Belle.

"Are you free next Saturday?" asked the prince. "There is something I want to show you."

"Of course."

"Good," said Adam. "I will have you picked up at four. Wear something nice. You may stay the night if you wish."

"That's very kind of you, but I can't imagine that my father would approve of me spending the night in a man's home."

"You've done it before, and it's not like we are going to be alone together," Adam pointed out.

"You're right," admitted Belle. "I guess I will see you next week then. Remember to read this." She pushed _Beauty and the Beast_ into Adam's hands. "We can discuss it over dinner."

Adam tucked the book into his pocket and mounted his horse.

"Good bye, Mademoiselle Desrosiers."

"I told you to call me Belle. Mademoiselle Desrosiers sounds far too formal. I want us to be friends," Belle told him.

"Very well," said the prince. "In that case, you may call me by my first name."

"Thank you," said Belle, smiling. "Good bye, Adam."

"Farewell… Belle."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

It was almost four o'clock on Saturday afternoon and Belle was panicking. The prince had told her to wear something nice. She didn't own anything "nice". Her entire wardrobe consisted of only three dresses. The first was the blue dress that she had worn every day for the past two years. The second was a tattered old grey dress that Belle had been meaning to cut up and use as a dish cloth. Finally, there was an old lacy pink dress that her grandmother had made for her when she was twelve. It would have to do. Belle laced up her stays and and pulled the dress over her head. After struggling to force the dress on for a full five minutes, Belle turned around to inspect herself in the mirror.

Her body had grown a lot since the age of twelve. The dress was far too tight, particularly around her chest, and the skirt barely came down to her knees. She looked ridiculous. She laid down on her bed, pressed her face against her pillow, and let out a loud wail.

"Belle? Are you decent?" Maurice called, knocking on the door. "Can I come in?"

Belle stood up and reluctantly opened the door. Maurice took a step back when he saw what she was wearing.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked, taking notice of his daughter's red, upset face. "And why on earth are you wearing that thing?"

"I don't have anything to wear, and the carriage is going to be here to pick me up any minute," moaned Belle.

"What's wrong with your blue dress?" asked Maurice.

"I couldn't wear that old thing, Papa," said Belle. "The prince is used to dining with interesting, well-dressed, wealthy ladies, not boring, poor girls dressed in rags."

Maurice furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. He muttered something incomprehensible and shuffled out of the room as Belle forced her old dress off. A few moments later, he came back into the room holding a big wooden box in his hands.

"Your mother left this behind," he explained, placing the box down onto the bed. "I never had the heart to throw it away. I know how you feel about her, but please consider it."

"I don't know if I'd feel right wearing one of _her_ dresses, Papa," said Belle, frowning.

"Just try it on to see if it fits," pleaded Maurice.

Belle looked hesitantly at the box for a few moments.

"Okay, okay, I'll try it on," she said finally.

Maurice stared out the window as Belle changed into her mother's old dress. He helped her lace up the bodice and she peered into her dressing table mirror and inspected her appearance.

"It's perfect," Belle gasped.

It was a dark spring green silk gown with tight-fitting sleeves trimmed with lace that went down to her elbows and a thin skirt that opened up at the front to reveal her gold petticoat. It perfectly showed off the gentle curves of her body and displayed a modest amount of her cleavage. Belle had always known she was beautiful, but this was the first time in her life that she truly felt it.

"You look beautiful, Belle," Maurice said, beaming with pride. He took a handkerchief out of his and began to dab at his eyes.

"What's wrong, Papa?" asked Belle, alarmed.

"My little Belle-pepper is growing up so fast," said Maurice, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. "I remember when you were just a tiny baby falling asleep in my arms."

"Don't cry, Papa," Belle said, lovingly planting a big kiss on her father's head. "No matter how old I get, I'll always be your little girl."

"Do you like the dress?" asked Maurice.

"It is gorgeous," Belle admitted. "But I still feel uncomfortable. I don't think I can wear this tonight."

"Belle, your mother loved you," sighed Maurice. "She still loves you. She wouldn't have left us if she didn't have to. It wasn't her choice. That dress makes you look so beautiful. You're going to knock the prince off his feet when sees you. Please wear it. As a favour to me?"

"Fine, Papa, I will wear it." Belle grinned at her father as she caught sight of herself in her mirror. She ran a hand through her chocolate brown hair and began to rummage through the drawers of her dressing table as a look of consternation crossed her face.

"What's wrong now?" asked Maurice.

"I don't have any ribbons that match my dress," explained Belle.

"I think your hair is perfect the way it is," said Maurice. "You should wear it down."

Belle smiled at her father as they heard a knock at the door.

"It's time," declared Belle. "Oh, Papa, a carriage, a beautiful new dress, and a handsome prince waiting for me in his castle. I feel like Cinderella."

"So, who am I?" asked Maurice. "The evil stepmother or the fairy godmother?"

Belle giggled.

"Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone, Papa," she told him as they left her bedroom and made their way down the stairs.

"Remember to go to bed at a reasonable time, Belle," said Maurice sternly. "Don't let the prince keep you up too late. And when you do go to bed, make sure he doesn't come with you."

"Papa!" Belle exclaimed, shocked. "What on earth are you implying?"

"I used to be a young man too, angel," Maurice reminded her. "I know how boys his age think."

"That's ridiculous," said Belle, resisting the urge to laugh. "Prince Adam is going to be married soon."

"Are you sure he is not just looking for one last romance before he is thrust into marriage?" asked Maurice, raising an eyebrow.

"He would never be interested in a girl like me, Papa," said Belle. "He is a prince who lives in a mysterious, romantic castle in the middle of a forest. I am a poor girl from Belleville. It would be a stretch to even call us friends."

"Belle, last week he rode all the way here just to see you, and he invited you to have dinner at his castle. He is clearly interested in you," said Maurice.

"He is just repaying me for saving his life. I doubt he wants anything from me."

"Just be careful, Belle. I don't want you to get your heart broken."

"Papa, please!" laughed Belle. "I wish you had more faith in me. I'm not foolish enough to fall in love with someone who I can't be with."

"You can't help who you fall in love with, darling. I know that better than anyone," said Maurice sadly.

"Don't worry, Papa, I'll be fine," Belle assured her father confidently.

Belle over to the door and opened it to find Eric, Adam's driver, standing on the doorstep. An enormous white and gold carriage pulled by four elegant white horses. She turned around, gave her father a big kiss on the head, and allowed Eric to help her into the carriage. Belle poked her head out of the window and continued to wave to her father as the carriage travelled down the hill and towards the forest.

* * *

Adam sat down at his mother's old dressing table and peered into the mirror. His hands shook nervously as he reached out and grasped his hairbrush. Belle was going to be here any second now.

Belle. Her name filled his stomach with butterflies. His heart started to pound like a drum whenever he thought about her. The thought that he was going to be seeing her again in just a few moments both filled him with excitement and fear. It was ridiculous, really. He was a pureblooded prince. He came from a long line of proud, powerful rulers, yet somehow a vulgar little village girl was turning him into a nervous wreck. The mere idea of it was absurd. She wasn't particularly charming. She was a silly, fanciful girl who preferred to live in worlds of fantasy instead of in reality like a reasonable person. She was not particularly attractive either. She was a rose among thorns in her village, but she was a weed compared to the exquisitely dressed bodies, elaborately coiffed wigs, and delicately made up faces of the docile noblewomen at the balls he attended. Yet she haunted his every thought. At night, as he lay in bed, staring up at the canopy, she was all he could think about. She invaded his dreams like a succubus. Thinking about her made him incredibly, indescribably happy, and he hated himself because of it.

His bedroom doors creaked open and Lumiere sidled into the room.

"Master, the mademoiselle is here. She's waiting for you in the foyer."

Adam's heart almost leapt out of his chest.

"Finally!" he said, trying to hide his excitement. "I'm hungry."

"Uh, Master, dinner will not be ready until seven o'clock," said Lumiere. "You should take the lovely young lady down to the island. Very romantic place. I've taken quite a few demoiselles there myself. In fact, that was where your father proposed to your mother."

Adam frowned. The last thing he wanted to do right now was take Belle somewhere romantic. He didn't even want to be alone with her right now. Why had he thought inviting her to dinner was a good idea? He couldn't risk falling in love with a peasant. He would be a laughingstock.

"I have no romantic interest in her, Lumiere," said Adam, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of this than Lumiere. "She is merely an acquaintance who has taken a shine to me. I am simply humouring her."

"Is that why you invited her to dinner?" asked Lumiere, smirking. "And why you went to see her last week?"

Adam ignored him and tied his long red hair into a ponytail. He strode out of his room, with Lumiere following close behind, and made his way into the foyer. He looked around for Belle, but was dismayed to find that the room was entirely empty with the exception of a stunningly beautiful brunette girl in an exquisite green dress. Adam stared at the girl for what seemed like five minutes before he finally recognised who she was. His jaw dropped.

"Good evening, Prince Adam," murmured Belle.

Speak you fool, Adam's brain screamed at him. He had to say something. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Master," Lumiere hissed, gently elbowing the prince in the ribs.

"Are you feeling well, Adam?" asked Belle, smiling bashfully.

"I apologise, mademoiselle. I-"

"Belle."

"Belle," Adam corrected himself. "Please excuse me. I have never seen you with your hair down before."

Lumiere rolled his eyes. The prince's eyes were not pointed anywhere near Belle's hair.

"It gets in the way when I'm reading so I usually keep it tied up," explained Belle, her cheeks turning pink.

"I must apologise, mademoiselle," said Lumiere, kissing the back of Belle's hand. "Dinner will not be ready for another two hours. In the meantime, the prince is going to take you to the island."

"Ooh! What island?" Belle asked, intrigued.

Adam shot Lumiere a withering glare. Lumiere merely winked suggestively back at him and headed back towards the kitchens.

"So, an island, huh?"

"You don't want to go there," said Adam.

"Yes, I do!" insisted Belle.

"I could take you out to the rose garden," suggested Adam.

"Maybe later," said Belle. "I want to see this island."

Adam sighed defeatedly.

"Alright, follow me," he instructed hesitantly.

Adam picked up a lantern led her out of the foyer, down a hallway, down a set of stairs and into the dungeon where they passed by dozens of empty prison cells. Belle let out a terrified scream as she noticed a pile of skeletons sitting in the corner of one of the cells.

"Who were they?" whispered Belle, terrified.

"I don't know," answered Adam. "They've been here since before I was born."

Adam opened up another door and led Belle down a long spiral staircase. It seemed to go on forever. The further down they went, the harder Belle found it to breathe. Just as her feet began to ache, they reached the end of the staircase and emerged into a dark cave that was mostly filled with a large body of water. Adam led Belle over to a small boat that was floating nearby and helped her into it before getting in himself. He placed the lantern on the middle seat between him and Belle and untethered the boat from the wooden post it had been tied to.

Adam removed his jacket, folded it up, and placed it neatly neatly under him. He rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, revealing his tanned, muscular arms, and retrieved two wooden oars out from under the seat.

"Would you like me to row?" asked Belle.

Adam narrowed his eyes and glared at her.

"What are you insinuating?" he asked sharply. "I am perfectly capable of rowing myself."

"I apologise," murmured Belle. "I was just offering to help. I didn't mean to insult you."

Adam rowed out of the cave and into the fading daylight. They floated down the river and Belle found herself admiring the prince's muscular arms as they went back and forth. She quickly looked away and admonished herself. The bushes on the edge of the river bank began to rustle and a handsome stag and a young fawn emerged and began to drink out of the river.

"Look!" Belle exclaimed, pointing to the fawn. "Oh, isn't he gorgeous, Adam?"

The river eventually led them towards a small island . The edge of the island was lined with enormous trees. They formed a tall wall that prevented passersby from seeing into the middle of the island. Adam rowed up to the bank of the island and helped Belle keep her balance as she stepped off the boat before carefully stepping onto the island himself. He tied the boat to a tree on the edge of the island as Belle surveyed the island. It was roughly the size of her cottage back in the village, and was covered with soft, thick, dark green grass. Dandelions and heather were scattered generously around the island. The immense trees almost entirely blocked out the sky and formed a canopy over their heads.

"This place is a paradise," gasped Belle, leaning down to pluck a dandelion from the ground.

"My servants and I used to have picnics here when I was a young boy," explained Adam.

"You know, if I still went by my birth name we would be Adam and Eve," said Belle. "And this would be our garden."

"May I ask you something personal, Belle?" asked Adam.

"Maybe," said Belle, raising an eyebrow. "It depends on the question."

"Why did you change your name?"

"I didn't really change it," said Belle. "I just don't like people calling me by my birth name. I made Papa read me _Beauty and the Beast _so much that he started to call me _la belle enfant_. Eventually he shortened it to Belle. Pretty soon everyone was calling me that. My mother gave me birth name, and I had already started to resent her for leaving us so I eventually began to refuse to answer to anything but Belle. To me, that is my real name."

"May I ask you another personal question? Why did your mother leave?"

"I don't know," answered Belle. "Papa's never told me."

"Perhaps he is the one that did something to upset her," suggested Adam.

"Oh no," gasped Belle. "Papa's a wonderful man. He still loves my mother. I don't think he would have done anything to hurt her. I don't understand why he doesn't just tell me why she left, though. It's obvious she's never coming back. He says she she loved me more than anything in the world, but if she loved me so much then why did she leave? I was only nine months old. Was I not good enough for her? Did she want a son instead?"

"I know how you feel," admitted Adam. "I know that my mother's death must have been hard on my father, but I was only a baby. I needed him, but I obviously wasn't enough to keep him alive."

In that moment, Belle felt an indescribably connection to Adam. Stop it, she told herself. She had no future with him.

"Tell me about your betrothed," she said, looking away from Adam.

"She's a princess."

"And?"

"She's rather comely and has golden hair. Oh, and she is a dreadful dancer," said Adam, remembering his and Alexis's first meeting at Lady Archambault's ball.

"Anything else?"

"I've only met her twice. That's all I know about her."

"You have really only met her twice?" asked Belle in disbelief. "When are you getting married?"

"March," answered Adam.

"March of next year?" asked Belle, shocked.

Adam nodded.

"That's awfully soon," said Belle. "Are you going to see her again before the wedding?"

"I don't believe so."

"And you aren't even bothered that you are getting married to someone you barely know?"

"Not particularly."

"But you are going to be spending the rest of your life with this woman," said Belle. "Don't you want to get to know her first?"

"You really don't know all that much about nobility, do you?" snorted Adam. "We're only getting married because we are of the same status. I can keep a collection of mistresses. After she has given birth to a healthy male heir, she will also be free to romance as many other men as she wants."

"That sounds awful!" exclaimed Belle, disgusted. "You are already planning to be unfaithful to this woman and you aren't even married yet. That's monstrous!"

"Is it really, though? My parents are the only ones I know of who got married because they loved each other, and look how that turned out. And look at how your parents marriage turned out," said Adam. "Marriage is about money and power, not love. I don't love this woman and she doesn't love me either. Is it really so wrong for me too have a few mistresses on the side, especially if she also has lovers of her own?"

"That actually makes sense in a way," said Belle, surprised. She touched the top of her head thoughtfully. "I wish I had golden hair. I've always been jealous of girls who have long, luxurious golden hair that appears to shine in the sunlight."

"I prefer brunette women, personally," said Adam.

"You mean like me?" asked Belle, smiling.

"Well, uh, yes. I-I mean no! How is Gaspard?" he asked, deciding that it was best to change the subject.

"Who?" Belle blinked. "Oh, you mean Gaston! I still don't understand why he's so interested in me. There are plenty of other girls in our village who are just as comely as me. In fact, I think many of them are far more attractive than I am."

"That is impossible," Adam said quietly.

"Did you say something?"

"No," lied Adam, his cheeks turning a shade of bright pink.

"We have nothing in common," moaned Belle. "He likes killing animals for fun and getting intoxicated, I like reading books and keeping to myself. Why does he think we would make a good couple? I want to say that I wish he would find some other poor woman to harrass, but I can't. He is a horrible, monstrous person. No woman deserves that cretin. He uses violence to solve all of his problems and he treats females like playthings. Just thinking about what he did to poor Lenore makes my heart hurt. Men are awful."

"That is a rather hypocritical thing for you to say," said Adam, frowning. "You dislike him because he doesn't treat women the way you think they deserve to be treated, but you just claimed that men are all awful people. That doesn't seem fair to me. And you complain about him using violence to solve all of his problems, but you had no qualms about slapping me across the face."

Belle looked down at her feet and thought for a few moments.

"You're right," she said finally. "I suppose it is wrong of me to generalise men like that. There is something I haven't told you, though. In fact, I've never told anyone this, not even Papa. When I was younger I wanted to learn another language, so Papa saved up a lot of money and hired me an English tutor as a thirteenth birthday present. Papa went went downstairs to work on his inventions during my lessons and I would be left alone with the man. In the middle of our sixth lesson, he put his hand on my knee. I didn't think much of it at first, but at our next lesson put his arm around my shoulder," Belle stopped and began to shake as the memories flooded into her brain and drowned every single one of her pleasurable thoughts. "And... and he reached into my dress. I immediately asked him to leave and I told Papa that I didn't want to learn English anymore and asked him to cancel the rest of my lessons. I was too ashamed to tell him the truth."

"Why would you be ashamed?" asked Adam. "It was not your fault."

"I don't know," admitted Belle. "But every time I remember back to that moment I feel so dirty and pathetic. I know that men aren't inherently awful, though. Papa is a wonderful man, for instance. And you don't seem so bad now that I have gotten to know you better. I think that is why I am drawn to you, actually. You have never leered at me, or looked at me as though I were a set of reproductive organs on legs."

Adam was glad that it was too dark for Belle to see the blush creeping over his face.

"We should go back now," said Adam, quickly looking away from Belle and up at the gap in the canopy. The sky was now pitch black with the only light coming from the moon and stars.

"You're right," said Belle. "Thank you for listening to me. I needed to tell someone, and I could never tell Papa something like that."

Belle's mouth split into a wide smile that showed off her dimples. Though he tried as hard as he could to repress it, Adam couldn't help but smile back at her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Belle watched the sunset in silence as Adam rowed them back to the castle. She still couldn't believe that she had just told him her most embarrassing secret. Yet she also felt relieved that she no longer had to keep it to herself. It was almost as if she had been set free. Meanwhile, Adam was still feeling awkward. How was he supposed to respond to what she had just told him? He decided that silence was best. Things were awkward enough. He didn't need to make it worse.

The little boat entered the little cavern and pulled up by the little wooden platform where they had first started their journey. Adam tied the boat to the wooden post and helped Belle out before he attempted to climb out himself. However, his left foot slipped on the wet platform and he fell head first into the water.

"Adam!" Belle shrieked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, pulling himself out of the water and onto the platform. "I'm going to have to get changed before dinner, though."

Adam proceeded up the long, spiral staircase with Belle following him. With nowhere else to go, she continued to follow him all the way up to the west wing of the castle.

"You didn't need to follow me up to my room, you know," he said upon reaching the west wing.

"Sorry," Belle murmured quietly, her face turning bright red.

"You may stand out on there while I change," Adam told her, pointing to a set of glass doors that led out to the balcony.

Belle walked out to stand on the balcony, closing the glass doors behind her. The moon was full and lit up the sky, allowing her to get a good view of the castle grounds and the adjacent forest. A tiny pipit flew down and landed on her finger. It chirped up at her, and allowed Belle to give it a gentle pat on the top of its tiny head. It left her finger and flew behind her back. Without thinking, Belle turned around to watch and accidentally caught a glimpse of Adam wearing only a pair of tight, linen drawers. He was standing with his back to her, rummaging through his wardrobe. Belle stared curiously, unable to tear her eyes away from his body. She had never seen a man's bare body before. He pulled a shirt over his head and turned, allowing Belle to get a quick look at his chest. He was muscular, though not monstrously so like Gaston, and there wasn't a single hair anywhere on his chest.

Belle hastily looked away, feeling ashamed of herself. She was just as bad as the men who stared at her. She had no right to complain about them when she did it herself.

"Belle?"

Belle turned around to see Adam standing in the doorway, fully dressed and staring at her expectantly.

"Y-yes?" she stammered.

"We have to go down to dinner," he told her. "Is there something wrong? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," insisted Belle, her face growing even redder. "This dress is just a bit heavy."

"Well, come on then!"

Adam turned on his heel and led her out of his bedroom, through the long corridor, and down the stairs.

"Ah, Master, Mademoiselle Desrosiers, you're just in time," Lumiere exclaimed when he saw them coming down the stairs together. "Dinner is served."

Adam and Belle followed the maitre d' into the dining room where the long table had been laden with more food than Belle and Adam could possibly eat by themselves. There were soups of all different kinds, roast ham, roast chicken, salads, and beef. The aromas penetrated Belle's nostril's and made her mouth water.

"It looks delicious, Lumiere!" Belle exclaimed, licking her lips. She moved forward to sit down at the end of the table.

"Master!" Lumiere hissed, elbowing Adam in the ribs.

"What?" Adam groaned.

"Pull out her chair for her," Lumiere whispered.

Adam rushed over and pulled out Belle's chair so that she could sit down at the table.

"Why, thank you, Adam," said Belle, smiling at him. "You're such a gentleman."

Adam blushed and took his place at the other end of the table. Lumiere served them their dinner and poured each of them a glass of wine. Belle took a sip and stared at the glass with an odd expression on her face.

"Something wrong, mademoiselle?" asked Lumiere, concerned.

"Where is this wine from?" asked Belle. "It tastes familiar."

"Cucugnan, near the Pyreenees," Lumiere told her.

"My father grew up there," said Belle. "I used to visit my grandmother there every summer. Papa occasionally let me have a very small glass of wine with my dinner and I always felt so grown up, even though it tasted disgusting to me."

"You don't like it?" asked Lumiere, frowning.

"The taste has grown on me," Belle admitted, taking another sip.

"I'll leave you two alone," Lumiere told them, winking slyly at Adam. He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Adam picked up his knife and fork and started cutting up his ham.

"Well, what did you think of it?" asked Belle.

"Think of what?" asked Adam, confused.

"Beauty and the Beast," said Belle. "I asked you to read it, remember? So we could discuss it over dinner?"

Adam thought for a few moments.

"It was peculiar," he said finally.

"What do you mean?" asked Belle.

"It was about a girl falling in love with a monster who imprisoned her."

"Yes, but he treated her far better than any of her suitors ever had," said Belle. "That's the point. The monster was frightening on the outside, but kind and gentle on the outside. Beauty and the Beast taught me that you shouldn't judge someone by what you see on the surface. There's more to a person than the way they look."

Lumiere pulled a large, round cake out of the oven and set it down to cool by the window. He retrieved a spatula out of a drawer and grabbed a bowel full of pink icing from beside the sink. He had just started to coat the cake with icing when Cogsworth entered the room.

"Lumiere, what are you doing?" hissed the manservant.

"What do you mean?" asked Lumiere as he put his spatula down and turned to face Cogsworth.

"You shouldn't be encouraging them," said Cogsworth primly. "The master is going to be married soon."

"It's just a harmless little fling, Cogsworth," Lumiere said, chuckling. "Nothing to get worked up about."

"It isn't fair to lead her on like that. They have no future together," said Cogsworth.

"The mademoiselle knows that the master is going to be married soon. She knows that they can't be together. Anyway, I don't see why he he won't be able to continue seeing her after he gets married. "

"That wouldn't be fair to his wife," said Cogsworth.

"Princess Alexis did not seem like she would care about whether or not her husband was carrying on with another woman when we met her," said Lumiere. "I wouldn't be surprised if she takes a few lovers of her own. Besides, you have to admit that she is doing a lot of good for him. The mademoiselle seems to have a calming effect on the master. He's far more laid back whenever she's around. In fact, he hasn't yelled at any of us in over a week."

"I think it's time I went to bed," Belle announced just after they finished eating the cake Lumiere had made. "Thank you for this, Adam."

"Wait, I have something I want to show you," said Adam, as he rose from his chair and took Belle by the hand.

He led her out of the dining room and own the hallway. They stopped just outside a large pair of double doors.

"Close your eyes," Adam ordered.

Belle raised an eyebrow and eyed him with suspicion.

"It's a surprise," he told her.

Belle smiled and obliged. Adam took both of her hands in his, opened one of the doors and pulled her inside.

"You can open your eyes now," he said.

Belle couldn't believe her eyes. There must have been millions of books in that one room. The shelves seemed to go on forever. The library itself was easily three times bigger than her entire village.

"I've never seen so many books in all my life," gasped Belle. "This room is amazing."

"Do you like it?" asked Adam hopefully.

"Oh, I love it," whispered Belle.

"It's yours."

"What?"

"You can come here and read whenever you want," Adam told her.

"I never want to leave!" Belle exclaimed, stifling a yawn. "Oh, but my father told me not to go to bed too late. I can't stay. Thank you so much for this, Adam. Good night."

She gave his hand a friendly pat and, after taking one last look at the library, left the room and started off down the hallway.

"Belle!"

Belle turned around to see Chip standing at the other end of the long corridor. He strode towards her.

"Oh, Chip," she greeted him, smiling warmly at the light-haired boy. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Why do you like him?" Chip asked. "He is an awful person."

"I used to think so too," said Belle. "But then I discovered a side of him that he tries to keep hidden. I don't think he is as awful as you think he is. There is no excuse for the way he treats people, but I think there's more to him than what we see on the surface."

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you," accused Chip.

"W-what?" Belle stammered, alarmed. "N-no, I'm not. Chip, I told you. I don't want a romance. Adam and I are just friends. Just like you and me."

"He's not going to change you know," he told her.

"I don't want him to change. I just wish he would stop using aggressiveness and hostility to hide his sensitive and gentle side," Belle told him, sighing. "It's getting late. Good night, Chip"

Belle kissed the boy on the cheek and made her way up to the bedroom she had been assigned. It was the same one she had stayed in before, when the prince had rescued her. The servants had laid out a nightgown for her. She took off her dress, replaced it with the nightgown, and crawled into the enormous bed.

It was true, though. No matter how hard she tried to deny it to other people, she couldn't deny it to herself. She really was beginning to have feelings for the prince.

The next morning, Belle had breakfast with Adam before he escorted her outside, where a carriage was waiting to take her home.

"Remember, you can come back and read any time you want," Adam told Belle, hoping she would get the hint.

"I will definitely be back," said Belle. "I can't wait to explore it."

"Farewell, Belle," said Adam, biting his lip to hide his happiness.

"Wait, I have something I want to ask you."

"What?" asked Adam.

"It's my birthday soon," said Belle hesitantly. "The last day of the month, actually. Would you like to come over for dinner? I can cook for you."

"Wouldn't you rather have someone else cook for you on your birthday?" asked Adam.

"I want to pay you back," said Belle, gently touching his hand. "For the library."

"You don't need to do that," Adam insisted.

"But I want to," said Belle pleadingly. "Please come!"

"Fine, fine, I'll come" Adam grunted, hiding a happy smile.

"Good," said Belle, grinning. "I will see you next week then."

* * *

_I AM SO SORRY IT IS TAKING ME SO LONG TO UPDATE! Don't worry! I am not the kind of writer who just abandons their story half-way through. I'm just super busy with university and the bajillion other stories that I am writing right now. Thank you for putting up with me. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Truth be told, Belle rarely cooked. In fact, Maurice had expressly forbidden her from even entering the kitchen after a series of events that occurred during her childhood. How hard could cooking really be? She was seventeen now, and more than capable of following a few instructions.

The carriage dropped her off just outside of the village. It was market day and, fortunately for her, the townspeople were far too busy to notice Belle stepping out of a grand, expensive carriage. She immediately went to visit the bookshop and bought the first two cookbooks she could find and rushed back home to look through them for ideas. At five o'clock, the front door opened and Maurice entered the house. A large smile spread over his face as soon as he noticed that his daughter had returned.

"Ah, Belle," he said, beaming. "Did you have a nice time with the prince?"

"It was amazing, Papa!" Belle gushed, setting down the cookbook. "He has the most incredible library I've ever seen!"

"And, uh, that thing we discussed last night. He didn't try to-"

"Of course not, Papa!" Belle exclaimed indignantly. "He was a perfect gentleman."

At this point, Maurice noticed the book that Belle had just set down. He picked it up and eyed it warily.

"Belle, you're not thinking of cooking something, are you?"

"Of course," replied Belle. "I invited the prince over for dinner on my birthday."

"Are you sure that's wise, Belle?" asked Maurice worriedly. "Remember the last time you cooked?"

"Papa, I was twelve!" Belle exclaimed. "And it didn't take us that long to rebuild the kitchen!"

"Well, okay," sighed Maurice. "Just make sure nothing catches on fire this time."

Belle spent the week before her birthday carefully planning out the dinner. She read each of the books front-to-back three times, carefully selected what she was going to cook, and made a list of ingredients she would need.

On the morning of her birthday, Belle skipped down the stairs to find Maurice had already prepared breakfast. In addition to her usual bowl of porridge, there was also a small plate of bacon and eggs sitting next to her glass of orange juice. Sitting in the middle of the table was a large misshapen package wrapped in brown paper.

"What's this, Papa?" asked Belle, pointing to the package.

"Your birthday present," Maurice told her, grinning.

"Oh, Papa, you shouldn't have!"

"What kind of father would I be if I didn't get my daughter a birthday present? Go on, open it."

Belle smiled and tore off the brown paper. Her father had given her a brand new dress. It was not too dissimilar to her old light blue dress, except that it was royal blue, had a fuller skirt, and the bodice was trimmed with lace.

"What do you think of it," asked Maurice nervously.

"Oh, I love it," breathed Belle, running a hand across the smooth fabric. "But how did you afford this?"

"I had one of the women in the village make it for me," Maurice explained. "In exchange, I'm building her a cabinet. I took your other dress over to her house while you were away and she copied your measurements from it."

"Well, please tell her I think it's beautiful," said Belle, admiring the dress.

"I also found this sitting outside our door," said Maurice, holding out a small square green package. "I suppose one of your admirers from the village left it for you."

Belle tore open the package and gasped. Inside was a silver chain neck with a heart-shaped emerald pendant hanging from it.

"This must have cost a fortune!" Belle exclaimed. "But the only person around here who would be able to afford to get me something like this is- Oh."

"What's wrong?" asked Maurice.

"Gaston must have given me this," said Belle. "It was nice of him, but I really wish he would leave me alone. There are so many other attractive girls in the village. Why is he so obsessed with me?"

"Just tell him you're not interested," suggested Maurice.

"You don't know Gaston, Papa. He's not the kind of man who takes no for an answer. I suppose I should go over and thank him," said Belle reluctantly. "I can't stand being around him, but it's only fair. I wonder how he knew it was my birthday."

After breakfast, Belle swallowed her pride, collected her basket, purse, and ingredients list and set off to talk to Gaston, who lived in a little apartment above the tavern.

"Ah, Belle," he boomed, shooting her his most charming grin. "Come in."

Belle reluctantly followed Gaston into the tavern.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I want to thank you," said Belle.

"For what?" asked Gaston, confused.

"You mean you didn't give me that present?" asked Belle, her eyes widening.

"Present?" repeated Gaston, raising an eyebrow.

Belle stared back at him. If Gaston hadn't given her that necklace then who had?

"I have to go now," said Belle quickly. "It was… nice talking to you, Gaston."

"No, Belle, stay a few more minutes," said Gaston, leaning in the doorway so that Belle couldn't escape. "Let me pour you a drink. Would you like some beer?"

"It's nine in the morning!" Belle exclaimed.

"It's never too early for a drink."

"Thank you, Gaston, but I really do have to go."

Belle swiftly ducked under his arm and darted out into the street.

"Good bye, Gaston," she called back to him. "Have a nice day!"

An hour later, Belle returned home carrying a basket full of goose fat, flour, sugar, butter, milk, eggs, and vegetables with one hand. With her other arm, she held a rather sizeable rack of lamb wrapped in brown paper.

"Did you thank Gaston for the gift?" asked Maurice when he saw her enter the house.

"He wasn't the one who gave it to me, Papa!"

"Maybe it's from the prince?" suggested Maurice. "He could have had one of his servants deliver it during the night."

"Of course!" Belle exclaimed. "How could I have been so foolish? Of course it was him! He probably gets stuff like this for everyone he knows. I'll have to thank him tonight."

After lunch, Belle got changed into her new dress and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around by the river, reading a book. At five o'clock, Belle entered the kitchen and laid out all her ingredients. She lit up the oven that her father had made, chopped up the potatoes, carrots, and onions and placed both them and the lamb into a tray filled with goose fat, and placed the tray in the oven.

Her first challenge came when she started to prepare the cake. The recipe called for four ounces of butter. She had bought a pound of butter, and there were twelve ounces in a pound. Or was it sixteen? She had never excelled at mathematics. After much deliberation, she settled on twelve, deciding that it was better to have too much butter in a cake than too little.

* * *

Adam dismounted his horse and put the elegant white stallion in the stable with Philippe. He retrieved a bottle of wine and a square, red package from the saddle bag and, after taking a few moments to calm the butterflies in his stomach ("You're a prince," he told himself. "Simple peasant girls have no right to make you nervous."), he approached the front door and knocked tentatively. After a few nerve-racking moments had passed, the door finally opened and Adam was greeted by Belle's father.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Maurice exclaimed, beaming. "Come in, come in!"

"Good evening, Monsieur Desrosiers," Adam responded gruffly.

"Please take a seat," said Maurice, gesturing to a wooden chair with a single pink cushion on it near the fireplace.

"Thank you," Adam said stiffly, sitting down.

"Belle, His Highness is here!" Maurice called, knocking on the kitchen door.

"Tell him I'll be out in a few minutes!" Belle's voice called back.

"Belle will be with you soon," Maurice said, turning back to the prince. "Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you."

"I like your suit," said Maurice. "Did your tailor make it for you?"

"It was my father's," Adam answered.

"Did he give it to you?" asked Maurice.

"He's dead."

"Oh. I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Adam solemnly. "I never met him. Both of my parents died when I was a baby."

"That's awful!" exclaimed Maurice. "You never knew either one of them? Who raised you?"

"My servants."

"I see," said Maurice, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Belle never knew her mother either."

"She has told me that on numerous occasions."

The two men stared at each awkwardly.

"What do you do?" asked Adam after a significant period of silence had passed.

"What do you mean?" asked Maurice, blinking in confusion.

"What is your profession?" Adam clarified.

"I'm an inventor," answered Maurice.

"Oh," said Adam uncomfortably. "Belle has mentioned that to me before, but I assumed it was a hobby of yours, not your full-time profession."

"I do some carpentry work on the side as well," said Maurice quickly. "I don't earn much, but it's enough to support Belle and myself, though we have to go without luxuries. Belle is lucky that the bookseller lets her borrow books for free."

* * *

Belle frowned as she stared down at the bowl of cake batter. It was far thinner and runnier than she had anticipated it would be. But the recipe had asked for three or four cups of milk, hadn't it? She had only put three cups in. Was it meant to be this runny? Belle checked the book again and her heart sunk. She had completely misread the recipe. It actually called for a three quarter cup of milk.

It would be alright, Belle told herself. The cake would just take a little bit longer to bake than she had anticipated. She picked the bowl up in her arms and started to walk over to the cake tin that sat on the counter on the other side of the kitchen. However, without any warning, her foot slipped on some of the goose fat that she had spilled on the floor just before she got to the counter. The bowl of batter went flying up into the air, with most of the batter itself landing on Belle's head.

To make matters worse, Maurice and Adam chose that moment to walk into the kitchen to check on Belle.

"Good evening, Adam," murmured Belle sheepishly. She was glad the batter covered her entire face so that Adam could not see how red her cheeks were.

"Oh dear," Maurice sighed. "Come on, darling, let's get you cleaned up. You're lucky I just perfected my fast-boiling machine."

On the surface, Maurice's "fast-boiling machine" appeared to be a large metal barrel suspended over a fire pit, however it had turned an entire barrel of icy cold water lukewarm in just a few minutes. Never had Belle been so thankful that Maurice was her father. She submerged herself in the water and began scrubbing at her body with a small washcloth. It took her a full fifteen minutes to get all the cake batter out of her hair. By the time she was finished, Maurice was knocking on the cellar door.

"Belle, can I come in?"

"Just a minute, Papa!" Belle called. She climbed out of the barrel, wrapped a towel around her torso, and called for her father to enter.

Maurice climbed into the cellar, holding spare towels in one hand and a simple, cream-coloured dress in the other.

"Are you okay, Belle?" he asked.

"This is the worst birthday ever," mumbled Belle bitterly.

"I brought you something to wear," said Maurice, holding the dress out to her.

"Where did you get that?" asked Belle.

"I borrowed it from one of the girls in the village. I forgot what her name was. You know, the one with red hair?"

"You mean Berenice?" asked Belle.

"Yes, I think that was her name," said Maurice.

"I wouldn't feel right wearing this," said Belle, frowning. "I barely know her. I'm just going to wear my old dress instead."

"You can't wear that ratty old thing tonight, Belle," said Maurice, shaking his head. "It's your birthday. Now, hurry up and get dressed. The prince is waiting for you."

"He's still here?" asked Belle, amazed.

"Of course he is," said Maurice. "Why would he leave?"

Belle quickly dried herself off, threw on the cream dress, and ran upstairs and into the house, where she found Adam pouring a much thicker batter into the cake tin. The rack of lamb and roasted vegetables were now cooling on the windowsill.

"Adam?"

"Ah, you're back. I hope you don't mind. I found some spices in the back of your pantry so I sprinkled them over the food. I also basted the lamb a bit while it was roasting."

"It smells delicious!" exclaimed Belle as her mouth started to water.

Adam divided up the meat and vegetables and put equal shares on three different plates. He and Belle brought them into the living room and placed them on the table and Maurice poured the wine Adam had brought into three glasses. The three of them sat down at the table, and Belle took her first bite of Adam's roast lamb. The taste of the meat exploded in her mouth and it slid effortlessly down her throat.

"This is incredible! You've got a hidden talent for cooking," said Belle, amazed. "Who would've guessed?"

"I've grown up with some of the best chefs in France cooking for me. I know good food. Plus, I've picked up a bit of stuff from my servants," Adam explained. "Cooking is quite easy, really. All you have to do is follow the instructions."

Dinner and dessert went by quickly. Maurice entertained Adam with embarrassing stories about Belle's childhood before he excitedly told them both about the inventions he had planned. Adam told them about the various going-ons at the castle and some humorous stories from his own childhood. Throughout the conversation, Belle often caught herself staring dreamily into Adam's eyes and admiring the way his hands tended to flail around when he got invested in a story he was telling. She had never seen him so outgoing before. He had always seemed so calm and collected whenever they had been in castle or in the village together.

After dinner, Maurice insisted on washing the dishes by himself so that Belle and Adam could spend some time alone in the living room.

"I've got something I want to give you," Adam told Belle, holding out the red package to her.

"But you've already given me something," said Belle.

"I have?" Adam blinked in confusion.

"Weren't you the one who left me this?" asked Belle, pointing to her necklace. Adam leaned down to inspect it.

"I've never seen that before in my life," he told her. "Anyway, open it."

He forced the package into her arms. Belle tore it open and let out a gasp of delight.

"Ooh, it's a book!" Belle exclaimed happily.

She took the book out of the flipped through it. Her excited expression immediately changed to one of intense puzzlement.

"It's blank," she said, looking quizzically up at Adam.

"There's more," he said, gesturing to the discarded box.

Belle picked it up again and pulled out two bottles of ink and three white swan feather pens.

"Since you like reading so much, I thought you might like writing as well," Adam told her.

"You're very kind," said Belle, blushing slightly. "But I'm not much of a writer."

"Really?" Adam frowned. "Have you ever tried?"

"Not really," Belle admitted. "Well, I've tried a few times. The words sound so beautiful in my head, but they come out as a jumbled up mess."

"Perhaps you just need to write more," suggested Adam. "They say practice makes perfect."

"But I don't have anything to write about," said Belle.

"Write what you know. Write about your life."

"But my life is so boring!" exclaimed Belle.

"Oh, I have to go. I have to attend a meeting early tomorrow morning," said Adam suddenly, looking over at the clock. "Happy birthday."

Adam started to lean down. For a few brief moments, Belle thought he was about to kiss her on the lips. Her heart started to beat. His lips came closer and closer. Finally, they landed on her cheek. Belle bit her lip and tried to hide her disappointment as best she could.

"You're welcome to come and visit my library anytime," Adam told her, walking towards the door.

"Good bye, Adam," said Belle, smiling up at him. "Thank you for everything tonight."

"Farewell, Belle,"

Belle watched Adam ride off into the darkness before she sank down on the window seat and buried her face in her hands. Maurice wandered in a few moments later, sat down next to her, and put an arm around her.

"You're falling in love with him," Maurice told her knowingly.

"I know," Belle admitted sadly. "I didn't mean for this to happen, Papa. I thought he was a beast of a man when I first met him. Then he saved my life and I saw a whole new side to him. A gentle, soulful side that he keeps hidden behind a mask of hostility. I couldn't help myself. He was like a book. I just wanted to open him up and get to know more about him. I didn't expect to start falling for him."

"This isn't going to end well, Belle," Maurice told her, patting his daughter on the knee.

"I know," Belle groaned. "Even if he wasn't getting married, there is no way we could ever be together. I mean, theoretically I could keep seeing him after he is married, but I'm not comfortable with that idea. I don't want to be anyone's mistress, Papa. I don't want to have to share the man I love with someone else."

"I know how you feel, Belle," said Maurice, his voice tinged with pain. "Your mother and I were from two completely different worlds. I knew our relationship would never last but, like a fool, I kept courting her. When you came along, I thought we might be able to make it, but it was not to be. I don't care what you decide to do with your life. I'll always be proud of my little Belle-Pepper. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I suppose the best thing for me to do would be to give him up now before the whole thing gets out of hand," murmured Belle sadly.

"Perhaps it's for the best," Maurice said. He leaned in and kissed his daughter on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Belle."


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you to TrudiRose, So-crates, and The Green Archer for helping me with this chapter. _

_Okay, this update is a super short, "moving the plot along" chapter with not much action. I am so sorry and I promise the next couple of chapters will be more exciting._

**Chapter Fifteen**

Belle spent the next two weeks doing everything she could to keep herself from going to see Adam. She read books she hadn't touched in years, cleaned the entire house from top to bottom, and brushed Philippe's coat until a small bald spot appeared on his neck. As she was hanging out the laundry, she noticed a cream-coloured piece of fabric in the mess of greens and blues. It was the dress her father had borrowed from Berenice. She had completely forgotten about it.

The next morning, Belle retrieved the cream dress from the washing line and carefully folded it up. As she stood on the doorstep of the house Berenice shared with her parents, her stomach began to churn. She gripped the folded up dress she held in her hands anxiously. She had barely even spoken to Berenice, and she was almost certain that the girl wasn't too fond of her. She swooned over Gaston like the rest of the girls her age did, and Belle had not had too many pleasant experiences with these girls. The puzzled expression on Berenice's face when she opened the door did not do much to calm her.

"Oh, hello."

"Good morning," said Belle, awkwardly holding out the cream dress. "I brought your dress back. I washed it."

"Ah, I forgot you borrowed that," said Berenice. "Thank you for bringing it back. Happy birthday, by the way. Well, belated birthday, I mean."

"Huh?" Belle blinked in confusion before it dawned on her. Her father must have told Berenice it was her birthday when he borrowed the dress. "Oh, thank you."

"Who were you having dinner with?" asked Berenice curiously.

"What?"

"Your father said you were having dinner with a 'gentleman friend'," said Berenice. "Who was it?"

"Oh, no one you'd know," Belle replied, raising an eyebrow. Why was Berenice so interested?

"Was it Gaston?" asked Berenice.

Belle resisted the urge to laugh.

"It wasn't Gaston, trust me," she assured Berenice.

"Then it was the prince, wasn't it," said Berenice. "You were with him in the tavern."

Belle sighed and nodded her head.

"If you don't mind me asking, how on earth did you two ever get together?" Berenice asked curiously.

"You know how there are some books with covers so ugly that you don't even want to go near them? Adam was like that. I used to think he was the most awful man I had ever met. To make matters worse, we just kept bumping into each other. Then one day, the book fell open and I saw a glimpse of the most beautiful prose I've ever read," said Belle.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a reader, but I get what you mean," said Berenice. "Gaston thinks you've lost interest in the prince ever since he beat him in a fight when you came to the tavern last month."

"I've got to give Gaston credit," said Belle. "At least he's optimistic."

"Why don't you like Gaston?" asked Berenice. "I admit that he is a little conceited, but he's handsome and he would be a good provider."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "A little conceited" was a massive understatement.

"He's… just not the type of man I am interested in," she replied, choosing her words carefully. She knew that Berenice was interested in Gaston herself and she didn't want to offend the other girl.

Berenice considered this.

"Fair enough. I wish Gaston felt the same way about you," she said. "I mean, I wish he would give other girls a chance."

"So do I," Belle assured her. "I wish he would just accept that I am not interested in marrying him."

"Do you think the prince is going to marry you?" Berenice asked.

"Adam is already engaged to a princess," said Belle, doing her best to hide the pain in her voice. "Besides, he could never marry me. I am just a peasant. My blood is common. He is a prince. He has to marry a princess."

"You could be his mistress," suggested Berenice.

"I've already considered that hundreds of times," said Belle. "That's not the kind of life I want to lead. I do not want to be 'the other woman'."

"If he has no intention of marrying you, and if you have no intention of becoming his mistress, then perhaps you should break it off," Berenice advised. "It isn't fair to lead him on if you aren't planning to stay with him after he is married."

"That's what I'm planning to do," said Belle. "I keep meaning to tell him, but I just keep putting it off."

"It is best to do it as soon as possible," Berenice told her. "The longer you wait, the harder it will be."

When she had first arrived in the village, Belle had dismissed the entire town as being vain and ignorant. Perhaps she had been wrong to judge the entire town based on first impressions. It was very possible. She had been wrong about Adam, after all. The villagers were a diverse group of people. It wasn't fair to judge them as one big entity.

After lunch, Belle started saddling up Philippe. This was it, she told herself. She was going to break off all ties with Adam. She was never going to speak to, see, or even think about him ever again. It was for the best.

* * *

"Why hasn't she come yet?" Adam roared.

Adam had spent the last two weeks in the library, waiting for Belle to arrive.

"It's only been two weeks, Master," said Lumiere meekly. "Give her time."

"I told her she could come over and read in my library any time she wanted. Why hasn't she come yet?" demanded Adam.

"Perhaps she is busy?" suggested Lumiere.

One of the library doors opened and Cogsworth sidled into the room

"Master, you have a visitor," he announced.

Adam had to resist the urge to jump for joy when he saw Belle glide into the room.

"Hello, Adam," she said, smiling timidly.

"Good afternoon, Belle."

Cogsworth swiftly exited the library. However, Lumiere stayed put. He casually picked a random book up from one of the shelves and pretended to skim through it.

"Lumiere, don't you have work to do?" asked Adam.

"It's my day off and I thought I'd get some reading done," said Lumiere unconvincingly.

"Since when do you read?" asked Adam, raising an eyebrow. "Tell Babette she's got the day off and go find a spare broom closet to canoodle in."

"Babette is sick," replied Lumiere.

"Lumiere?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Get out," Adam ordered. "Now!"

Lumiere quickly scampered out the door. Adam turned to face Belle, who was nervously inspecting her fingernails.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied. "Adam, we need to talk."

Adam's heart sunk. That didn't sound good.

"Take a seat," he said, pointing to a pair of armchairs sitting next to one of the fireplaces. The two of them sat down. "What do you want to talk about?"

Belle took long, deep breath

"I'm falling in love with you

"Oh."

Adam looked down at his feet. He hadn't been expecting Belle to say _that_. What on earth could he reply with? He wanted to tell her he loved her as well. But he was a prince! She was a peasant. That would be like a lion admitting his love to a common house cat.

"Adam?"

"So am I," he admitted.

"We can't see each other anymore," said Belle.

Adam looked up, alarmed.

"What are you talking about? You just said you loved me!" he yelled.

"You're getting married, Adam," said Belle. "I shouldn't be associating with a man who is betrothed to another woman."

"That doesn't mean we can't continue our relationship," said Adam. "It's not like I love this woman."

"I don't want to be your mistress, Adam," said Belle, shaking her head.

"Why not?" asked Adam. "I'll take care of you and your father for the rest of your lives. I can give you everything you will ever want. We can even have children, if you want them."

Belle considered this for a few moments. Perhaps it would be for the best. Her father's health was failing and their money was running out quickly. The men in the village were far too intimidated by Gaston to even consider courting her. Adam would be able to provide for both her and her father. She would be free to spend the rest of her life reading books and traveling the world. She quickly put the thought out of her mind. There were a lot of roles that Belle wanted to play in her life. 'The other woman' was not one of them.

"No, I don't want to share you," said Belle. "And I don't want to be the woman copulating with a man while his wife is lying alone in a cold bed."

"We can just be friends," said Adam. "No romantic stuff."

"No, Adam, we can't be friends. We've already admitted that we love each other," said Belle. "The temptation would just be too much for me."

"Then we will just have to fight out temptation," said Adam. "You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. If we stop seeing each other altogether, we might find ourselves falling even more in love with each other."

"I'm still not sure," said Belle.

"Belle, I refuse to stop seeing you," said Adam. "If you won't come to me, then I will come to you."

Belle grinned.

"Okay, fine," she agreed. "We can be friends." She looked around the library. "Have you been reading?"

"No," Adam admitted. "I just wanted you to think I'd been reading."

Belle giggled.

"So, all this time you've been waiting in a library and you didn't even pick up a single book?" Belle shook her head. "I just don't understand you."

"I'm sorry," said Adam, sighing. "I just don't like reading. My old tutors used to force me to read boring old history books, and I'm afraid I haven't been too fond of reading since then."

"I will make you love reading," Belle promised him. "And, uh, since we're already in a library…"

"Go ahead," said Adam, smiling. "Choose a book."


End file.
